Scorpion
by IsabelParkerStevens
Summary: The Black Widow program isn't enough anymore and so the Scorpion program is developed. Scorpion's have survived on earth long before humans existed, and she will continue to do so long after they are all dead. AU starting from Avengers Assemble and through to Civil War. Is pre and post events to this period of my own ideas. Mainly follows MCU however will be some small deviations.
1. Chapter 1

St, Petersburg. December 1987.

Nikolai Marakova stared blankly at white knuckles as they gripped the steering wheel of his stationery car. Despite the persistent ringing in his ears, the susurration of the falling snow onto the car roof was almost deafening. His hat rested on the biscuit leather passenger seat and Nikolai felt discontent rise as his gaze washed over it and up to the house he was parked outside of. Smoke was billowing from the chimney and Nikolai knew that his wife, Alyona would have lit the fireplace as soon as she had woken. Like always she would have muttered to herself about how it was too cold to bear in the winter months and not much better in the summer. It was just a year-long battle trying to keep warm. Nikolai was often at work before the sun rose over the horizon and so he missed out on her daily protests at the weather. Though he could agree that she was not completely unjustified. The sun never rose high over St. Petersburg, always failing to burn away even the fine top layer of snow under its feeble heat. Instead, its light reflected off the blanket of white that always coated the city. Alyona was from Sochi and still hadn't adjusted to the difference in climate despite moving to St. Petersburg five years ago as Nikolai's new wife. However, upon being presented with her own home and not an apartment like the thousands that stretched above the city skylines, she knew they were both incredibly lucky.

Nikolai sighed as he pulled himself from his car and placed his hat back atop his head. Though the house was identical to the other nineteen in the street, being small and compact, it was still somewhere they could call their own – as much as you could call anything your own in Soviet Russia. Yes, the government gave you a home to raise your children and a job, so you could feed them, but it could easily take away anything it gave. As Nikolai walked up the small path to the front door, snow crunching under foot, he couldn't help but think about how it had felt when he had returned from the Afghan War to a new and unplanned baby to greet him. He had been terrified from the moment the letter had been delivered to him in Afghanistan but as soon as he saw Elena, the tiny perfect combination of him and Alyona, all hesitation vanished. However, an honourable discharge was not as honourable as they tried to make it sound. Yes, Nikolai had walked away from major conflict with his body relatively intact and the Order of the Red Banner to adorn his chest, but army pensions were not generous unless you died on the battle field. And so, when the KGB had approached him with a distinguished job offer, he had few other options. He couldn't deny that the job hadn't been entirely terrible, they paid well, and he was respected throughout the community, respect that extended to both Alyona and Elena. But events could change their course with little warning, he had learnt that on the frontline, and again today.

Alyona greeted her husband the same way she did every other evening, but her kiss to his cheek was not reciprocated and instead of the usual dashing smile she had fallen in love with seven years ago, she was met with a sombre look that caused unease to rise in her stomach. Nikolai looked straight over her shoulder to the small redheaded girl that was sliding down the steps to greet her father with her favourite arctic wolf teddy in hand, causing Alyona to do the same.

"What is it?" she questioned, her voice barely above a whisper – Elena was an incredibly intuitive child and Alyona had a feeling it was better she didn't know something was wrong.

Nikolai said nothing but guided his wife into the living room, softly closing the door behind them. Away from the prying eyes of his toddler, Nikolai's agitation became clear and he began to pace the room, briefly stopping only to explain his concerns to his wife before his feet began their repetitive distressed movements.

"But what could they possibly want with her?" Alyona questioned, her voice strained and a delicate hand resting on the only photograph of the small family. Nikolai could only shrug in response to Alyona's concern grew from not only fearing for her child but for her whole family. If Elena's safety was at risk then so was theirs, she found her grip tightening on the wooden mantelpiece. Alyona remained silent as Nikolai removed his hat and callously tossed it to the floor.

"I don't know." He finally replied, "But they have a file on her. Her name, a recent photograph, I only caught a glimpse, but it looks like they took it whilst you were both out walking. They've got her date of birth; our names were there too. And a stamp across the front sheet, 'VIABLE.'"

"Viable? What does that mean? Viable for what? Is that why they promoted you so quickly? To get to Elena?" Prior to this evening, Alyona had disregarded the hushed rumours she'd heard about her husband; that he wasn't deserving of his title, that better men had missed out on the opportunity so he could have it and now she would give anything to have some other family have this calamity in their home.

Nikolai shrugged in response to her questions, unable to find any answer that would soothe his wife. Suddenly the weight of his jacket was too much to bear, he harshly pulled it from his shoulders before letting it drop onto the floor alongside his hat, the Red Star emblem contrasting heavily against the khaki green of the fabric.

"I didn't get a proper look at it. I don't think the commander even realised he had it open. But it said something like, _Kree positive_? What is that supposed to mean?"

Alyona watched cautiously as her husband pulled his fingers through his now thinning hair. She couldn't help but remember how much thicker it had been when they'd met and how much healthier he had been overall. Even upon his return from the Afghan War, there had been more life in his eyes. However, his job had taken a lot out of him over the years and there were often evenings when he refused to discuss what he had done during the days he had been gone. Alyona knew this night marked Nikolai's breaking point when he approached the living room door and silently opened it, watching silently as their daughter mumbled to her wolf on the stairs, patiently waiting in her own fantasy world, completely unaware of the imbroglio unfolding around her.

"What are we going to do?" Alyona questioned, tears beginning to sting her eyes as she noticed her throat was suddenly dry. Neither had ever discussed Nikolai's work in too much detail but they both knew that what the KGB wanted, it got. Families had often gone missing before and whilst the community would fabricate stories to explain the strange disappearances to themselves, everyone's thoughts were the same – though no one ever dared to voice them.

A few moments of thick apprehension passed whilst Alyona waited for her husband to make his decision. Whilst unsure of what it would be, she knew that things were going to change very drastically for them. Eventually, he turned to her, a silent but steely determination on his face.

"We leave." He answered, barely above a whisper. "Tonight."

Alyona scraped her long blonde tresses back into a ponytail as she began to rifle through her wardrobe, searching for the lightest and yet warmest clothes to travel in. Nikolai hadn't said much as he'd marched out of the front door to make plans for their getaway, only telling her to pack the essentials. As Alyona closed her bedroom door, knowing she would never sleep in her own bed again, she was confronted by her toddler, clutching her wolf and pulling a small red suitcase behind her.

"Are we going on holiday?" Elena questioned. Alyona nodded and knelt in front of her, tucking several stray red hairs behind her ears.

"Yes. Papa surprised us with a holiday. Isn't that exciting?" Elena nodded enthusiastically as she followed her mother down the stairs and into the kitchen where a pot of Solyanka had been bubbling all afternoon.

"Are we having dinner before we go?" Elena asked, and Alyona nodded again, placing her daughter at the kitchen table before beginning to take family photographs from their glass frames and wrapping them between layers of clothing. She didn't see Elena's eyebrows furrow in confusion at the odd choice of holiday packing.

The sun had dropped below the horizon and a heavy darkness had engulfed the outside world when Nikolai returned, a consuming darkness, howling wind and flurry of snowflakes accompanying him through the door.

Dinner was eaten in relative silence that night. Only the low hum of the refrigerator and the static from the radio as it faded between stations invaded the strained silence as Elena's gaze shifted between her parents, each of them smiling falsely when they caught her questioning blue eyes.

"Papa?" Elena finally questioned, pulling her Father from the far-away place where his thoughts were running riot. Alyona gripped her fork tightly as she glanced hesitantly between her husband and daughter.

"Yes?" Nikolai answered, his voice cracking from being quiet for so long.

"What did you do at work today?" It was not an unordinary question, one that was asked most nights. But it invoked different feelings in her Father tonight, he considered the answer as he massaged a lump out of his throat and absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck where an unsettling itch had begun to grow.

"Oh, boring, grown-up things really. I bet your day was a lot more interesting, what did you do?" Elena's mind had been easily side-tracked and Alonya couldn't help but smile briefly – one thing Elena was always guaranteed to do was talk about herself. Alyona expected her daughter to one day write an autobiography and be able to make money from doing her favourite thing.

"We went to the market to buy the meat for supper and the bread man had some old loafs that he let me take so we fed the ducks at the lake and then we came home and made Ptichye Moloko. Do you want some?" Elena abandoned her dinner and jumped down from her chair to retrieve the sweet desert from the fridge. She watched her father closely as he bit into it and waited patiently until he was finished, smiling as he pulled her onto his knee. Nikolai pulled her loose ponytail tight and smoothed her fiery hair before pressing a kiss to the top of her head whilst she ate her own desert.

"Are you excited for our holiday?" Nikolai asked, Elena nodded eagerly, her mouth full of chocolate-covered marshmallow. Alyona and her husband shared silent looks of trepidation laced with determination as they began to clear their dishes for what would be the last time.

It was always a risk, travelling at night. Riots had been erupting in the countries under Soviet Rule in the recent decade and the government had responded by enforcing strict curfews. Nikolai and Alyona could only be relieved that St. Petersburg had remained relatively calm during the outbursts, allowing them to pack their essential items and slip their only child, tightly wrapped in a blanket, into the backseat of their car. As Nikolai turned the key in the ignition, Alyona glanced over her shoulder to their lit home, a dim glow coming from the couple's bedroom. Their plates from dinner would still be drying on the rack and Elena's colourful scribbles were still on the coffee table where she had been unable to show her Father. Nikolai had said leaving the lights on would attract less attention, it looked like they were still at home and she could only agree, knowing they needed to get as far away as possible before anyone noticed they were gone.

The roads of St. Petersburg were relatively empty, much to the relief of the couple as they both glanced to the backseat where their child still slept. Working women and soldiers stumbling from bars to use their services were the only bodies that stood in the cold night. Eventually they left the city and the roads began to thin into bleak countryside.

"Who is this man you're entrusting to get us out?" Alyona asked, her voice cracking slightly.

"An old friend from the Army, we fought together in Afghanistan and he was given an honourable discharge the same time as me." Nikolai answered quietly, paying more attention to the empty road than was necessary. "He has an old plane, a gift from the Army for his services. He says he can get us to France and he has a contact there who will get us seen by the US embassy."

Alyona's hands were clenched in fists in her lap. Defectors were executed, everyone knew it. Few people had ever successfully left the motherland, and none of those that did were carrying a small child, but Alyona refused to let the KGB take her only daughter and use her for their own sick gains. She had often overheard the wives of other high-ranking officers discussing the international operations their husbands were assigned to and it was the stuff of nightmares.

The drive was not a short one and before long, Alyona had succumbed to the soothing sound of the engine, resting her head against the cool glass of the window, unable to fend off sleep. Nikolai was left in silence to contemplate the severity of what they were doing. They were already too far gone to return - if a neighbour had seen them leave they had probably already reported them and their home would be crawling with KGB officers. The lights of St. Petersburg were tiny specs in the distance as Nikolai glanced in his wing mirror. He knew that his old army friend would live off the grid, but he hadn't anticipated for Matvei to live so rurally and alone. It was clear the lifestyle had taken a toll on him when Nikolai finally arrived and switched off the car engine.

Matvei Ivanakov was a tall and thin man. His mother had died when he was a baby, succumbing to the famine Stalin had enforced on Ukraine, leaving Matvei and his Father no choice but to move to Moscow where his grandparents lived. His Father had died not long after the erection of the Berlin Wall, his final military services were spent guarding it. He had served his country for the entire duration of the Second World War and had even bragged at how he had been one of the troops to have stormed Hitler's bunker when the Red Army had finally broken Berlin, and yet his final act of service to his country was to shoot a fifteen-year-old boy trying to jump the Berlin wall to be reunited with his mother. When Matvei had received the news of his father's death, he was also gifted the small shed he now called his home. Nikolai was glad for the lack of lighting, Matvei's eyesight had been deteriorating in Afghanistan and Nikolai couldn't help his look of pity, it was clear to see Matvei didn't have much.

"You are either extremely brave, or extremely stupid." Matvei grimaced, as he shook hands and waited as Nikolai gently shook Alyona awake who then lifted a still-sleeping Elena from the back seat. She cast a cautious glance at Matvei, untrusting him herself, but understanding he was their only chance to get out of Russia. Nikolai retrieved their bags from the boot and loaded them into the small plane as Matvei climbed to the cockpit and began to go through the take-off procedure. Alyona strapped Elena tightly onto the seat before joining her husband back at their car.

Nikolai handed Alyona a can of petrol and the two of them splashed it over the outside and drenched the inside, before leaving a trail away from the car. Nikolai scratched the sulphur layer away from a match and dropped it the floor, the fumes igniting with a metallic sheen that gave way to burning orange heat. The pair watched the car disintegrate for a few moments, the orange flames breaking the darkness of the wilderness and offering them momentary escape from the bitter cold.

"No going back." Alyona reminded him quietly. Nikolai sighed as he wrapped an arm round his wife's shoulder.

"There never was." He assured her. "As soon as I saw her name, I knew we were getting out. I love our country and I've given everything, but they can't have our daughter."

Alyona nodded in silent agreement and no more words were exchanged as the pair climbed into the plane and took to the skies. Soviet Russia was dark, as were the countries that had joined the expanding empire. She recalled that some Western politician had referred to the divide through Europe as the 'Iron Curtain' and it was easy to see why. She only knew they had reached Germany when she saw a single line separated the darkness from the streetlights on the other side of the wall. Elena remained fast asleep whilst Alyona stroked her hair in a soothing fashion – reminiscent of the way her own mother had soothed her in times of trouble - silently praying her toddler would stay asleep until they landed. Alyona was prepared for her to be scared when she woke, she had fallen asleep in her own bedroom in her own home, a place she would never see again.

The landing was a bumpy one, and the youngest passenger was finally beginning to stir from her sleep. Alyona welcomed the warmer air than she was used to, despite it being 3.30am. A sleek black car waited to the edge of the airstrip and when the propellers of the plane stopped rotating, a man in a black suit stepped out and approached the small family. Elena stirred awake on her Father's shoulder and her eyebrows furrowed at the unfamiliar temperature.

"Welcome to Paris, Mr and Mrs Marakova." The man smiled, Elena pushed herself up, so she could see the source of the voice and she watched closely as her father shook hands with the man before he ticked her under the chin. She scowled heavily at him, and buried her face in her father's collar, inhaling the smell of his cologne.

"My name is Senator Warren." The suited man said, smiling at the toddler. "I have been informed of your situation and understand that you wish to officially defect from the USSR and the KGB, and be granted US Citizenship for yourself, your wife and daughter, is that correct?" Nikolai nodded as he passed Elena to Alyona. He pulled their three passports from his coat alongside his KGB ID card. The Senator took all four documents and examined them closely before tucking them in an inside pocket of his coat.

"You are aware, that if my government agrees to offer you refuge in our country, and give you each a new identity, something will be expected in return." Nikolai nodded without hesitation.

"Yes, I understand. Whatever they – you want, I will tell you. We can't go back. They want our daughter." Senator Warren cast a speculative glance at the three-year old drifting back off to sleep.

"What on earth would the Soviet Government and the KGB want with a harmless three-year-old girl?"

"We do not plan to find out Senator." Alyona stated sternly causing both men to look at her with an air of surprise. "We will tell you everything we know."

Senator Warren nodded slowly and gestured for the family to get into the backseat of the car whilst he joined the driver in the front. Nikolai nodded in silent thanks to Matvei as his friend returned the gesture before starting his engines again and taxying down the airstrip.

As the car glided through the streets of Paris, heading for the US Embassy, Senator Warren turned in his seat.

"I can't make any promises. At the end of the day, the information you provide must be deemed useful to the U.S Government, otherwise they won't take you."

"I understand." Nikolai replied.

Elena gazed out of the window of the small plane that they had all to themselves. Alyona had told her it belonged to the man in the suit and so she had to make sure she didn't put her feet on the chairs. He had formally introduced himself as Senator Warren the day they arrived at the embassy, but she had been too preoccupied with the attention from the secretaries to pay much attention of him. She couldn't help but laugh at their excessively big hair and stiff shoulders in their oddly coloured suits. She had started a whole new collection of drawings with the pencils she had been given at the embassy and her father had given her a brown satchel to keep them all in.

Her attention was diverted from the clouds as she heard Senator Warren speak.

"These will be your new passports." He handed them three small blue books. "If you don't hold up your end of the deal, these will be revoked, and you will be removed from U.S soil.

"Senator, do you have children?" Nikolai asked, Warren sat back in his seat and nodded.

"Four girls. I always wanted a boy, but it just hasn't happened. My wife is pregnant with our fifth and I'm just hoping I get a son this time round."

"Is there anything you wouldn't do for them?"

"Nothing."

"Then you know I will hold up my end of the deal."

"Leyna, come here." Alyona held out her hand for her toddler as she pulled her onto her lap. She pointed out the window and as a cloud drifted away Elena saw a huge statue standing in the water, holding a book under one arm and a flame torch in the other. She had seen statues in St. Petersburg, honouring the dead and fallen from past conflicts, but nothing like this.

"What is it?" She questioned.

"Lady Liberty." Senator Warren answered as he began to put his paperwork in his briefcase. "Welcome to New York, young lady."


	2. Chapter 2

Manhattan. June 1989.

Alyona Marakova was happy, genuinely happy for first time in far too long. Sat at the window of their small apartment, she overlooked the bustling neighbourhood of Washington Heights. By no means was their new home a grand one, in fact it was the farthest thing from - only two bedrooms with a tiny bathroom and a kitchen that doubled as a living room. The neighbours were noisy during the day and their cats were noisy at night, but it was safe, safer than St. Petersburg had ever been. Nikolai and Alyona were no longer on edge every time they heard sirens in the distance. She couldn't deny that she'd been paranoid for the first few months, always glancing over her shoulder out of sheer habit but the small family had eventually settled into their new life in New York.

The sun was beginning to set behind the tall buildings in the distance and instead of the silence she was used to in Russia, Alyona could hear children playing and teenagers walking the street carrying heavy speakers on their shoulders, playing unfamiliar music. The air always smelled of a different kind of cooking food that vendors sold all day on the street corner. As she breathed a sigh of contentment, Alyona stroked her growing stomach in a soothing fashion, calming the baby that began to kick at the same time every day. Nikolai had been thrilled when she had told him, it was truly the start of a new chapter and to be at peace was a wonderfully simply thing.

Alyona's attention was pulled from the sunset and to the sound of her daughter giggling to herself on the sofa. Elena was engrossed in a child's TV show that had become an integral part of her daily routine two years ago when Senator Warren had handed them the keys to their new home along with new passports and identities. Alyona hadn't been able to hide her discontent at their new given names, Ellie, Nick and Allison were far too American for her liking. Yes, she was grateful to the US government for giving her family a second chance at a normal life, but she missed Sochi, with its warm summers where she spent her childhood at the beach. She even missed St. Petersburg, a year-long winter wonderland. Alyona hadn't had the opportunity to tell her mother she had left, and she would never get that opportunity – whilst one part of her regretted the decision to not even write a letter to her mother, she knew that the KGB would interview her first once they noticed they were gone and it would be safer if she genuinely knew nothing at all. Not that it would make much difference, if the KGB decided you were guilty of something, that was your sentence as well as your accusation. Alyona knew her mother would understand, once you have them, your children are the most important thing in the world and Alyona would do whatever it took to keep Elena safe from those who wished her harm – she could only think of the possibilities that America could offer her daughter, and the sibling that would soon join her. That was priceless.

Nikolai arrived home at 6pm precisely, the same way he did every evening. Alyona had noticed that Nikolai was a happier and healthier man in New York. The past two years had flown by in peaceful Sunday mornings and family board-game evenings that had never been interrupted by lengthy phone calls and suspicious letters. Christmas, Fourth of July and Halloween were celebrated with street parties after they had been welcomed with open arms by their neighbours and Elena had made friends at her pre-school that she had quickly bonded with within a few weeks.

Pulling his tie loose and shrugging his jacket from his shoulders to drape over the kitchen chair, Nikolai pressed a kiss to his wife's forehead and one to her swollen stomach before joining his daughter on the sofa and pulling her onto his lap, pressing a kiss to her temple as well. Elena still had her arctic wolf teddy that she refused to part with, though it had been looking considerably worse for wear over the past few months, mainly due to its repeated journeys into the bathtub but Elena was little like a child in most other ways. She had easily risen to the challenge of learning English and was equally fluent in it as she was in Russian and had taken on the role of translator where her parents still hadn't quite adjusted to the new dialect. It was a nice, new and simple life. One they had never imagined would be possible before now.

But nothing lasts forever.

June 17th was a warm evening; the day had been baking hot and the heat hadn't subsided when the sun sunk below the horizon, but Nikolai and Alyona knew that this anniversary was the last they would be able to celebrate without having a young baby to look after. They hired a babysitter to look after Elena and though they shared a look of scepticism at the young teenager as she popped pink bubble-gum before smiling widely revealing cheap lipstick stains on her teeth, they knew that Elena would call them if anything went wrong.

Elena waved goodbye to her parents as they left for their dinner reservation and turned her attention to her guardian who had quickly made herself at home and was rummaging through the refrigerator. She popped another mouthful of bubble-gum and smiled again before settling on the sofa in front of the TV. Elena silently retreated to her bedroom, pulling her curtains closed and switching her lamp on so she could read one of the many books she had collected since arriving in New York. She disappeared between the pages of a fantasy world where three young children moved to a new house and found a magic forest with a magic tree where all kinds of odd creatures lived and there was a different world at the top of the tree every day. She could hear the muffled words of the TV programme her babysitter was watching through the wall and when her eyes were heavy from reading too much and yawns interrupted her breath, she folded a page over and pulled her duvet over herself, falling asleep to the sound of an audience laughing and game show music.

Elena woke violently, in a similar way that one might wake up from a nightmare, where your skin is slick with sweat and your pulse is racing, but after a few seconds of intense adrenalin, your breathing will slow to normal and your heart will stop hammering in your chest when you realise that your safe and it was all in your head.

This wasn't like that.

She sat up in bed unable to pinpoint what had pulled her from her deep sleep. Her book was laid over her feet and as she pulled her covers back it and slipped out from under them, it fell to the floor with a thud. She yelled in fright when her bedroom door flew open and a man stood in the doorway, blocking out the light from the living room and kitchen. He said nothing, standing for a few moments in daunting silence before he reached down and took her by the wrist and dragged her from her room. Her silent protests turned into screams of horror as her eyes fell over the bodies of her parents, sat at the sofa as if they were watching TV. They were placed perfectly, like the dolls lining Elena's shelf. Her mother's makeup was still perfectly intact, her father's suit as neat as when they had left, the only difference was the blood from their foreheads that trickled down past their open eyes and down their cheeks, dripping from their jaws, into their neatly folded hands. Tears stung at her eyes as she found she couldn't look away from their lifeless forms, their skin had gone grey and begun to sink in on itself and the shine was gone from their eyes.

Elena's voice escaped her as she saw three more men, all dressed in the same uniform that used to clothe her Father. Their expressions were indifferent as Elena was tugged violently through the place that had become her home and out into the hall. She expected neighbours to be at their doors, questioning the unusual sounds so late at night but everyone stayed firmly locked away, out of sight. Behind her one of the soldiers shouted something in Russian but her mind was moving too fast for her to process what they had said, as she turned to try and look at him a sack was pulled down over her head and her world was plunged into darkness.

Cold air bit at Elena's skin, goose bumps erupted over her arms and legs, through the thin pyjamas she had gone to bed in. They kept the sack over her head, preventing her from seeing anything in detail but when she was roughly awoken she could see light through the stitching in the rough fabric. She didn't know how long she had slept for, had they drugged her to make her sleep longer? Were they still in New York, or had they left America entirely? Questions raced through her mind faster than she could process her surroundings, but one was answered when she heard a public announcement tannoy, the voice was in Russian and with a deep feeling of dread she knew she had been brought home. At times, she had missed Russia, the foods and the parties she would attend with her parents when her Father was being honoured for his service to the country. But as she was made to stand barefoot in the snow, feeling her feet go numb, she wished for nothing more than to be at home with her parents, watching pointless TV and listening to the sound of the music from the streets of their neighbourhood.

Elena was not a stupid child in any capacity. She had known what her parents had done the night they had left Russia under the cover of darkness. She had slept for most of the journey but had woken briefly at the airfield to see her parents loading their bags into a small plane whilst a thin man set several controls in the cockpit. He had spotted Elena awake and smiled a mainly toothless smile at her, causing a feeling of unease to rise in her stomach, she had quickly closed her eyes and not awoken again until they had landed in Paris. Her parents had explained to her, once they had moved into their new apartment, that Russia had become dangerous and that they had no choice – they had to leave. They hadn't gone into detail, but Elena had known it concerned her to some extent but being a child, she didn't think they could reach her in New York, that Russia's threat didn't expand beyond its borders.

She was so wrong.

The cold air burned her lungs as she inhaled deeply, trying desperately to make sense of her surroundings. She was lifted off her feet again and placed in the back of a truck that jolted violently as it slowly drove down a poorly maintained road. She could smell the heavy pine trees and guessed they must be driving through a forest, forests meant predators that would kill a small, skinny five-year old. Best to stay in the truck. Forests meant somewhere hidden, a secret place that not a lot of people would know about, which also meant the likelihood of escaping and simply running to a police station highly improbable. Eventually the truck stopped, she was lifted from it and marched to a building, she could see it block out the sun through the sack. It had been well over a day since she had seen the outside world in any detail and she couldn't even be sure it existed anymore, but she knew that her little world in her New York apartment was long gone. Elena couldn't help but wonder what would happen when the police would find her parents body, would Senator Warren be called? Would they look for Elena? She doubted they would find her and any tiny hope that they would vanished entirely when the sack was pulled from her head and she was facing a scientist in a white coat holding a clipboard. The heavy metal door she had been led through closed behind her with a bang that echoed off the bare concrete walls. A strip of bright white lights lined the ceiling the entire length of the hall she was in, a vast, grey room with the Soviet flag hanging like a great medieval tapestry. The scientist looked down at her and smiled a sickening smile before turning and walking away from her, but the soldiers holding each of her soldiers pushed her forward, making her follow him.

Her teeth were chattering with the cold and her toes were blue as she examined the building with a mix of fear and curiosity. There were few windows apart from a few that lined the tops of the walls, far too high to reach and even then, too small to climb out of. There were no other people to be seen but Elena was sure she could hear the distant sound of fighting, it reminded her of the film The Karate Kid, but she somehow felt this was distinctly different in a very bad way. The lights overhead cast thick white beams onto the concrete floor and Elena found herself counting them as her legs began to go weak and the soldiers began to drag her the length of the hall, holding her roughly under each arm. She chose to ignore the pain in her feet as her toes scraped along the rough ground, even when they began to bleed they were too numb for her to feel it. Everything washed over her in waves, her exhaustion the only thing she was constantly aware of.

Eventually, another heavy door was opened, and Elena almost sobbed at the sight of a bed, the soldiers dropped her onto it and she clutched the scratchy grey blanket with the remaining strength she had. The bed was a simple metal frame with a thin mattress that she could feel the springs through and a flat pillow. There were five sets of clothes at the foot of the bed, a white vest with a red square on the chest with a set of golden wings and black shorts, a white nightdress, what looked like a school uniform with a red necktie, a military jacket and long skirt, emblazoned with the Red Star and a black leotard with a pair of pink satin ballet slippers. The soldiers left the room in perfect synchronization and the scientist returned. He had round glasses and thin hair that was receding back from his hairline and was held firmly in place with an acrid smelling product. His teeth were a sickening shade of yellow as he smiled at Elena, curled up on the uncomfortable bed. It was not a genuine smile, but instead the one you might receive from someone who doesn't like you but is trying to pretend otherwise. Elena said nothing, trying to keep her expression as neutral as possible, the fear was obvious, she couldn't hide it, but she wouldn't give away her weaknesses. He sighed, opening a pocket watch, noting down the time and clicking it shut again.

"There will be enough time for formal introductions later." He said, his smile was gone and a auror of professionalism had taken over, as if he was at work. "You're not going anywhere, so there's little point in rushing through these things. For now, sleep. Tomorrow, you begin your training." He looked down at her almost with pity before heading for the door, turning back briefly as he stood in the doorway.

"Welcome to the Red Room Academy, Miss Marakova. We've been looking for you for a long time."


	3. Chapter 3

Belarus. 1990.

Clocks are incredibly useful devices, it's often taken for granted how hard it is to keep track of the time without one. Elena had lost track of the days long ago, she very quickly realised there was little to tell them apart anymore. In New York, and even before that in St. Petersburg, every Sunday her Father and Mother would cook Pelmeni before they would all sit in front of the roaring fire and play a board game until the sun went down and Elena was being forced to go to bed.

There was no Pelmeni at the Red Room, nor was there a fireplace or any board games. It was just routine, the same one, day in and day out. She was woken at dawn by the same two women, stone faced and thin lipped with their hair scraped back into buns so tight she couldn't help but wonder how they were able to close their eyes. On the very first morning, when she was still exhausted from a sleep that was plagued with nightmares, they had pulled her from her bed and dressed her themselves. Straight into a perfectly neat school uniform with the red neck tie tied a little too tightly, they had muttered something about it keeping her from slouching. They had tamed her hair into two simple braids and instructed her that she was never to take them out, even when she slept. Her stomach rumbled loudly but the two women acted as if they hadn't even heard it. They escorted her to a large classroom where she saw the first other children her own age. There was only twenty of them in total, Elena filling the missing seat at the back of the room. They were each dressed identically and their hair were all matching braids. The classroom sat silently as the woman introduced herself as 'uchitel', and that she should always be addressed as such, no exceptions. Her expression never wavered, along with the other teachers in the room. She didn't ask the girls to go around the room and introduce themselves as Elena did when she joined pre-school, instead a film projector was switched on and they sat through an American animated film about a princess who managed to get seven little men to agree to let her live with them. Most of the other girls were silent as it played, clearly having never heard English before, but Elena had watched the film in New York with her mother and found herself whispering along to the words, trying to pretend she was back on the lumpy sofa in that tiny apartment. She didn't notice the teachers gesturing to her and taking notes.

After the film had finished they were instructed to change and so Elena was taken back to her cell and the teachers told her to dress in the vest and shorts, both waited outside, maybe they thought she was going to try and run away. They escorted her a different direction than the first, out into a could courtyard where the other girls were already lined up and snow flurries were piled against the walls. She was instructed to stand at the back of one of the lines and another teacher, with thin red lips nodded to two girls at the front of the lines and they stepped forward and assumed fighting stances. Elena could see they were both older than her, maybe nine or ten, she couldn't be sure. She looked across the courtyard to the girl who stood opposite her, figuring out that one day the two would most likely end up fighting like the two girls in front of them. She had long black hair that shone even though there was no sun. Her eyes were green against her tanned skin and freckles dotted her face and shoulders. She didn't ever look at Elena but instead stared at her feet on the floor.

The class continued to watch as the two girls fought, exhaustion becoming clear on their faces. The teacher said nothing but eventually she waved her hand, allowing them to stop. Her expression wasn't one of pride but of disappointment, even disgust. The girls were all sent away to their rooms and Elena was escorted back to her cell and once again instructed to change, this time into the leotard. The teachers untied her hair and roughly brushed it back into a tight bun, it pulled at her temples and before she had even reached the room where the other girls were filing in, she already had a headache. They were sat against the wall and ten older girls came in, followed by a thin man in a striped shirt who held a cane in his hand. Elena watched their feet as they began to perfectly dance to the music that came from the grand piano under the large window. When they ended she almost forgot where she was and nearly applauded them, as if she were at the Mariinsky watching Swan Lake. She thought it had been perfect and despite it all, she looked forward to when she could dance as well as them, her feet in dainty pink pointe shoes. Their teacher however, wasn't pleased.

"Again." He instructed them, and he began to circle the girls as they danced, tapping limbs that were out of place, gently at first and then harder until one of the girls cried out and lost her position entirely. He sighed and dismissed her, ignoring her as she left the room and was escorted away by two soldiers armed with rifles. The girls finished their routine again and he seemed pleased this time, turning to the young five and six-year-olds knelt on the floor in a perfect row.

"Perfection is what I expect, and it is what you will give me. Every time. Otherwise, there will be consequences." The girls left without dancing themselves.

And so, it went on, day after day and week after week. Until eventually, Elena was moved. Out of her cell and into a communal sleeping area where the other nineteen girls slept. She carried her clothes neatly folded in her arms and remained silent as they all closely examined her, still staring when she sat at her own bed against the far wall. A clink of metal against metal caught her attention as the mattress shifted under her weight and she pulled the pillow away to expose a handcuff, one lock already fastened around the bedpost. She stared at it for a while until the girl opposite her caught her attention, gesturing that the other half of the cuff would go around Elena's own wrist. She had almost expected that once the teachers had cuffed them all to their bedframes and switched off the lights, the girls would begin to giggle and whisper amongst themselves, talking about their homes, their families. But it didn't happen, and Elena felt she had no interest in getting to know any of them either, the silence was so intense that a ringing began in her ears and only stopped when she heard the girl next to her try to get her attention.

"My name is Mara." She whispered softly. Elena hesitated before answering her, this could be a test. The girls never spoke at any other point during the day, so why would they be permitted to speak now? She could hear the distant thud of soldier's boots as they patrolled up and down the halls.

"Elena"

"Hi, Elena."

It wasn't until their next ballet class that the two girls got to properly look at one another. The same man who had taught the other girls set up a long barre in the middle of the room and placed Elena and Mara on either side whilst he had them repeatedly go through each position from first to fifth until they were perfectly in sync. Mara was shorter than Elena, though not by much, with skin that was equally pale. Her face was round and reminded Elena of a doll, her eyes were big and glistening and freckles scattered over her nose and cheekbones. Her ears were a little too small for her head and Elena almost laughed when she thought about it, causing Mara to smirk too. The man with the cane whipped the floor harshly and the two girl's expressions snapped back to neutral as they both fixed their gaze on the wall in front of them, focusing on their steps.

Eventually, Elena settled into the routine of the Red Room. It was easy to do once you realised there was no point in fighting it. The teachers went around the large dormitory, handcuffing each girl to the bed and pulling on the cuff to make sure it didn't break loose before marching out in a single line and switching out the light. Elena and Mara turned to face each other, both girls had been taught Morse code in their classes and they put it to good use at night, tapping on the metal under their mattress, just loud enough that the other could hear and then tapping a response. Elena learnt that Mara had been born in Novosibirsk and that they were the same age. When Elena asked where her parents were Mara told her they had died in a car crash when they'd gone out to buy groceries. When Mara asked Elena, she simply said her parents had died too. She was plagued with enough nightmares of her parents, no point filling Mara's head with the gruesome details. Little was said after that and so Elena turned onto her back and closed her eyes to the sound of wind howling outside, the only soothing sound the Red Room had to offer.

Elena was woken by her teacher unlocking her handcuff, as her mind processed that it was still dark, and the other girls were all still asleep, or at least pretending to be, she was pulled from her bed and dragged to the hall outside the dormitory where three armed soldiers stood waiting for her.

The Red Room, whilst being a place of nightmares with no comforts to think of, was bearable. They were fed, though not until they had gone through morning classes and sparring. They were clothed, and she had seen a class of girls even younger than her where the teachers braided the girl's hair and even appeared to smile to them when they answered questions correctly. It was almost affectionate, but the girls were reminded daily that they were there for a reason, and whilst they might not be aware of it, the teachers were and that meant they couldn't afford to form attachments with the children.

The Gold Room did not have anyone to braid Elena's hair. There were no teachers, only soldiers and scientists in white coats. They could have been doctors, but doctors were kind, they shone a light in your eyes and in your ears and if you behaved well they gave you a sweet. These men were not doctors. They all stared at her blankly as she was led into the small hexagonal room with a wall of windows on the far side. She was made to sit in a lone chair in the middle of the room, and they continued to stare at her as though she was a specimen in a laboratory and not a terrified six-year-old.

"Elena Nikolayenva Marakova." One of the scientists read, as if he was presenting her to the rest of the room and the people who she was sure sat behind the windows in another room. Her folder looked like any other, manila in colour but what caught her attention was the emblem on the front, it was like nothing she had ever seen before. A Red Star, the military might of the Soviet Union, her father's uniform had the same emblem. Combined in the image of the Red Star was a red octopus with a skull for its head, its tentacles coiled tightly at the end, ready to strangle anything that strayed too close.

"Viable." She was pulled back into the room and stared blankly at the man who had read her details. He snapped the file shut causing her to jump slightly, she mentally chastised herself for being so transparent. Another one of the scientists approached her and knelt, she followed him with her eyes but kept her head level, refusing to lower it.

"You are a very special girl, Elena. Do you know why?" She remained silent whilst he waited for an answer, he sighed and stood. "I didn't think so. Your Mother and Father tried to stop you from being special and I don't think that sounds fair. Do you? We want to help you be the most special girl in this great nation, maybe even the world."

The third scientist from the back of the room who had been nodding eagerly throughout he mantra raised a finger in the air and pushed a pair of crooked glasses up his nose, his breathed through his mouth and Elena couldn't help but find it incredibly annoying.

"I think brain scans would be the best course of action – I would like to see exactly what we are dealing with here. If we are correct, and I think we are, she will be unlike anything we have ever seen."

Before she could react, two soldiers grasped her shoulders, pressing her down into the chair. Her pulse was racing, and she tried to wriggle free from their grasp, but they were both too strong. The soldier to her right took hold of her head and pulled it to one side, exposing her neck, her eyes flicked around the room, how she imagined an animal must look just before it is killed. Her eyes fixed onto the first scientist as he approached her with a syringe in hand – tears and screams of grief she had been holding in since her parents died broke free and the serum raced through her veins igniting her blood like a wildfire burning hotter than anything she had experienced before. She heard herself crying out in pain, hopelessly calling out for help but her own voice sounded detached and so far, far away. Eventually her body succumbed to the pain and she felt her head fall forward as the world went black.

Elena didn't wake again until they picked her up from the chair and began to drag her back to the dormitory. Her neck was sore from where they had pierced the needle through her skin and her eyes burned as if she had got shampoo in them whilst washing her hair. She stared at the ground sliding underneath her, eyes blurry and mind disorientated. She exhaled sharply as they dropped her onto her bed and locked her wrist into the handcuff. Mara whispered her name as tears of sadness mixed with the tears of pain and rolled down Elena's cheeks. She stared up at the ceiling, ignoring her friend's whispers until exhaustion took hold and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

Her daily routines continued the same as before, woken in the dark, dress for class where they would watch a different American film every day. The morning after, it was Pinocchio and at the end the teachers told the girls that they were all Pinocchio. The coachman along with his fox and cat companions represented the U.S and how it treated little girls, if they were ever to get caught they would suffer the same fate as the film. Elena didn't listen much to them when they said this, she felt exhausted from the night before. The only thought she could conjure in her mind was that these teachers were more like the coachman, pulling on all the girl's strings, making them dance to their own twisted song. After a while the girls were also taught about various types of guns they would one day be allowed to fire, their teachers spoke as if it was a privilege to be allowed to handle such a weapon, but they made it clear that they wouldn't lay a hand on one until they knew the theory of it inside and out. Ballet classes became more gruelling and soon enough their own teacher was tapping limbs with his long cane whenever one of the girls wasn't perfectly in position. Mara and Elena learned how to mirror each other's moves perfectly, so they were never out of synch, and they couldn't help but smile at each other when routines were finished without the need for their limbs to be struck with the cane. Their teacher nodded simply, the highest praise they had ever seen him offer. In the afternoons, they were once again sat in the classrooms and given literature to read and once they had read it in Russian, they were instructed to read it again in English, French, German, Japanese and Latin.

Most nights, Elena was still stolen away to the Gold Room. By the end of the first week and five journeys in the middle of the night, she had memorised the route, turn left out of the dormitories, and go past the studio where starlight poured in from the glass ceiling, sometimes she wistfully imagined would it would be like to dance in there, in the dark, on her own with no one to correct her moves. But the soldiers would drag her on past and down into a smaller hall that she didn't use during the day. The door was the only one, at the end, with a button passcode on the wall. They didn't try to hide from her what it was but why should they? It wasn't as if she would ever be free to wander this place and explore it herself. Still, she watched the soldier press the 9-digit passcode, 4-2-4-5-4-9-3-7-2, the heavy locking mechanism behind the door would clunk loudly and she would be escorted inside and made to sit on the same uncomfortable brown chair. The two soldiers who escorted her would always wait outside, armed with their rifles that Elena now recognised to be a Kalashnikov. She had begun to pay more attention to the room they kept her in during the nights, a Red Star was mounted on the wall in front of her, the symbol of the military might of the Soviet Union and behind her was the red skull and tentacles. She had hoped during their day classes that they might be taught what it meant, they had been taught the emblems for every other military organisation in the western world but not this one.

The scientists would go through her file every time, reflecting on the notes from the times she had been there before and adjusting their actions accordingly. Then the two soldiers who stood at the back of the room would pin her down and expose her neck, so they could once again inject her with the burning serum. It would set her blood alight the same as always, and her eyes would scream in pain as if she was being blinded and always the pain was too much, and she wouldn't wake until they dropped her back onto her bed and handcuffed her wrist to the frame.

The next day everything changed.

Elena dressed for her sparring lessons as usual and walked perfectly in line with Mara two places behind and to her right, the same way they did every day. Elena was at the front of the line this time and she was ready to fight the girl opposite her. The stood silently in the courtyard, facing one another, Elena and the girl opposite glaring coldly at each other. Their teacher eventually stepped into the space across from them and nodded to the two girls. Elena and her opponent stepped forward and assumed their defensive stances. They looked to their teacher as she stood, arms behind her back and ayes narrowed.

"Vasiliev." Elena's opponent looked sharply towards the teacher as she gestured for her to stand back in line. Elena kept her position but adjusted her curled fists.

"Petrov." She instructed and slowly, Mara stepped forward and took the other girls place. Elena felt sick to her stomach, the repetitive serum injections were taking a toll on her mainly her appetite, and she found herself eating less and less at meal times. The girls examined each other as they both stood, wide-stance and fists raised. Elena tried to apologise to her friend, but Mara's eyes were flitting from one position to another, she was panicking.

"Fight." Their teacher instructed, and the girls reluctantly did as they were ordered. They had learnt from watching the other girls that there were no rules when sparring, ribs were kicked, and jaw were punched, hair was harshly pulled, and nails were dug into fleshly skin. Elena had even seen one girl dislocate her opponents arm before. The spectators remained silent as the two girl's energies began to wear thin, but they didn't stop – you never stopped until you had your opponent in a headlock where they couldn't fight back, or you were told to quit. Mara threw a sloppy punch, Elena thought fleetingly that it might have been intentional to allow Elena to slip under her arm and slide her own arm around Mara's neck and place the other on the top of her head. Mara slapped Elena's arms in defeat and just as she began to loosen her grip, their teacher held up a hand.

"Do you think, if you are captured by the enemy, they will let you go? So, you can go back and kill them later? Or so they can kill you?" The girls in the line shook their head and Elena felt her palms begin to sweat, she could feel Mara's pulse hammering against her wrist.

"They will not show mercy and neither do we. Mercy is weakness and weaknesses are not tolerated." Elena's eyes darted from one side of the courtyard to the other as she noticed two soldiers with their rifles try and sidle in without being noticed.

"It's kill or be killed." Her teacher said, Elena stayed silent and unmoving for a moment before the teacher nodded again and Elena closed her eyes as she swiftly snapped Mara's neck and felt her weight drag as she slumped to the floor. Elena was surprised at how easy it had been, one of the strongest bones in the body and it just…snapped. She stood straight again as the two soldiers approached Mara's body and removed it from the courtyard. The girl who had intended to be Elena's opponent dug her nails into the palm of her hands, trying to hold back tears of relief. The teacher nodded again.

"Emotions form attachments, attachments make you weak."

Elena sobbed silent tears that night, staring at the empty bed next to her through blurred vision.

They came for her the night after. She had spent the day in a haze, waking next to an empty bed and staring at Mara's empty seat in their class. But like her parents, the Red Room didn't give time for mourning and so she remained neutral, following orders as usual, dancing steps perfectly in ballet. Remaining completely detached from it all, the teacher had been right, emotions form attachments and attachments make you weak. Elena wasn't going to make that mistake again.

She was prepared for the Gold Room and found herself even welcoming the serum, at least she would fall unconscious for a while and be able to escape it all. But that didn't happen, they didn't take her to the door at the end of the small corridor. Instead they led her around and to a normal wooden door that didn't have a heavy electronic locking mechanism. Inside was a dark desk scattered with paperwork and manila files, most of them emblazoned with the same two emblems Elena had grown so familiar with. On the far wall was a bank of windows and she had the sudden realisation that whoever used this office had been watching her every time she had been stolen from her bed and experimented on. There was one further window in the room, behind the desk, it was small but big enough for a skinny girl to fit through and Elena had visions of her escaping and managing to find her grandmother in Sochi and somehow, trying a second attempt at life. The door closed, snapping her attention out of her daydreams and back into the real world and her empty stomach churned as the scientist who had greeted her on her first night made his way over to the desk.

"Sit." He said simply and despite wanting to be difficult, Elena was too tired to fight anymore and so she followed the command.

"Now, you have made quite the impression. Your ballet teachers speak highly of you, your technique and perseverance is admired. Your class teachers on your obedience and physicality. You show a lot of promise." Elena gripped the edges of the seat, willing herself to be in the other room, away from this sickening man and with the others who seemed the smallest bit scared of her. He leant forward, interlocking his fingers, Elena saw the name 'Montgomery' on his jacket.

"I have chosen you. Elena Marakova. For a very special experiment."


	4. Chapter 4

Belarus. 1993.

It has fallen. The USSR has collapsed and all the territories it took from the West are being returned.

Of course, the girls weren't ever supposed to find out. The existence of the Red Room depended on their being a Soviet Empire to protect and defend. Now, they would be faced with the more difficult task of bringing it back entirely. There was no way they could know about the enormity of the task at hand. Gorbachev had folded to the international pressure of the world's nations and hadn't been able to continue the great legacy of the USSR that Stalin and Khrushchev had worked so hard to build.

Of course, Elena knew exactly what was happening in the outside world. Three years since Mara's death and three years since Montgomery's experiment, she had become a whole other young girl to the one she anticipated she might one day grow to be. Despite being only nine, Elena's childhood had long since ended. Montgomery had told her she was near to completing her specialist training under his observation, excelling beyond expectation, he said she would most likely be one of the youngest girls to graduate the Black Widow and the first to complete the Scorpion Programme. She knew it was wrong, but Elena couldn't help but feel silent pride, she had become self-assured. If she was never going to be good at anything else in her life, she knew she would be able to survive and this was the place that had given her that ability.

Her nights were still split between the Gold Room and Montgomery's office where his 'experiment' had been revealed to teach Elena how to dissociate from long-term pain.

"Useful if you are ever caught. They won't show restraint because you are a woman and we've trained you to not expect that form of treatment. They will most likely torture you for information. Your skills assure me you will be one of the most well-skilled to leave to Academy…" he paused briefly. "…but you can never account for human error. You must be strong enough to withstand the most volatile pain."

He had said it with a smile, as if he was doing Elena a favour, in torturing her night after night until she eventually found a way to create a mental path away from this place to where she could no longer feel the pain. It was the only time she could freely think. She would be in her old home, with a burning fireplace and a board game scattered on the coffee table. Her father letting her win at scrabble whilst her mother nursed her new baby sibling. She never knew if it was a boy or girl, but it didn't matter. Her escape was the fantasy of family that she had been deprived of.

Montgomery's lessons had resulted in Elena's skin becoming an intricate road map of tiny scars, cuts and bruises, some couldn't be seen but every single one was felt. She had learnt to look at them as lessons, each one a reminder that she was able to withstand anything they threw at her. Occasionally she had caught the other girls glancing at her skin when they changed between classes, but they never stared for long. She couldn't blame them, some days the scars disgusted her too.

Montgomery sat across from her, signing more documents as Elena pressed a padded dressing into the newest bleeding wound on her abdomen, crossing over with another scar that was still pink against her pale skin. He sighed as she flicked beads of sweat from her brow, the scientists had created another serum they said would make her immune to all known viruses, ironically, it involved injecting her with all known viruses at once to see if the serum would combat them. Combined with her constant lack of sleep, she no longer had any fight left to resist the regime, it was so much simpler to succumb to the pressure and obey orders. A headache began to encroach on her temples as she shivered despite sweating. It was always so bitterly cold in the office and steam rolled from her skin in delicate curls.

Closing the manila folder that had her name on the front and her photograph paper clipped to the inside cover, Montgomery crossed his arms and leant forward.

"There is just one more thing we must do before our time together is over." Elena made eye contact with the aging man across from her for the first time that night. His expression was unreadable as usual, but she felt a sickening sensation rise in her stomach regardless. The door to his office opened and a soldier marched over to her, pushing her head to the side, exposing her neck and pressing a syringe into her skin before she could protest.

Elena was woken at sunrise along with the other girls, unable to remember the journey from Montgomery's office back to her bed. As she waited for the teacher to unlock her handcuff, she noticed a pain in the back of her head and it burned for the entire day. She missed steps in Ballet and didn't achieve a perfect score in her marksman assessment. She heard the other girls muttering behind her as she lowered the rifle onto its stand, but her teacher simply disregarded the fault and handed down a passing grade. When she allowed an opponent to get a kick at her jaw she cursed herself for not sparring with as much ruthlessness as normal and yet that teacher ignored it as well, the lack of discipline concerned Elena, it was almost like they all knew why she wasn't performing as well. Combined with the burning in the back of her head, that concerned her above all else.

By the time night came, her whole head was throbbing, and waves of nausea had accompanied her other symptoms. The lights were switched off in the dorm, but she had taught herself to not fall asleep before the soldiers came for her and it wasn't long before they did.

The Gold Room was empty of all other people that night apart from the soldiers who dutifully remained at their posts outside the door. Inside was identical apart from a small table with a wadded white envelope sat on top. Elena followed her normal routine regardless and sat down and waited in the silence, staring at her clenched hands in her lap. Eventually a shrill ringing invaded the silence and she looked up – Elena Marakova was never going to be a particularly patient girl. She couldn't deny that the envelope had peaked her interest from the moment she had set her eyes on it and if she had learnt anything it was that nothing in this place was an accident. Every thought, every action was precisely thought out and planned down to the finest detail. She examined the room again, looking for anything else that was out of the ordinary and her eyes came to settle on a small camera in the top corner where a red light flashed in steady intervals. Had that always been there? She couldn't be sure but wherever the scientists who were normally present were, they were watching. She reached forward and picked up the envelope.

The contents were not a letter like she had thought it might be. Instead it was a stack of polaroid's, she felt a chill roll over her as she began to slowly shuffle through them, she willed herself to stop but her hands continued regardless. She chewed on the inside of her lip when she came across a photograph of a foot with a small brown tag on the big toe. The writing was too blurry to make out what it said but she could sense foreboding as she shuffled it to the back of the stack and continued to look through.

Half way through the photos, Elena's neck began to burn like someone was holding a match to her skin. The individuals in the photographs were looking vaguely familiar, like she had maybe passed them in the street once or seen their photos on her mantelpiece in St. Petersburg. When she got to the bottom of the stack, she dropped the others behind and held the last photograph in a tight grip. Their faces were exactly as she had remembered them, their eyes wide open and the clean gunshot wounds in their foreheads, both between the eyes. The memories of New York that she had tried so hard to forget came flooding back in an intense wave of unprocessed grief and anger. She was a terrified five-year-old again, screaming for her parents as she was dragged from her new life and thrown into the wilderness of Belarus of which she would never leave. The burning in her neck intensified and spread until her whole body once again felt as if it was on fire. Elena clenched her eyes shut and tears burned, her hand screwing the photograph into a ball and dropping it onto the stone floor. She heard a door open and footsteps came into the room.

"Open your eyes." She heard someone instruct but she didn't obey, the pain was too unbearable. She shook her head and felt hands grip into her shoulders harshly.

"Don't be weak. Weakness will get you killed. Do you want to die?" Elena shook her head again.

"Then open your eyes." She did as she was told and as soon as she did, the pain began to subside, and a new sensation took over her. She could hear everything in the room. The ticking of the clock, the murmuring of the small camera in the corner, and the thoughts of everyone else who surrounded her.

"Did it work?" One asked. Elena turned her attention to him, and saw his home, his wife and four sons.

"Ask it something." Another prompted, she could sense the fear in his voice and when she focused on him she heard him repeating nonsense words in his mind, keeping her out and so she turned back to the other man.

"Your sons." She began, and the men fell silent. "Filip, Vadim, Yuri and Alexei." Each of the scientists turned to the man as he nodded eagerly.

"We did it." He whispered, clearly un phased at what she had said. "Thank God, we broke her." They all continued to mutter amongst themselves as exhaustion swept over Elena and she sank back into the chair, not caring what they planned to do to her. The grief and rage in her subsided and her eyes began to close of their own accord.

"She sleeps too much. We will need to address this." She heard one of the scientists say before scribbling something into her file. She didn't fight when two hands picked her up and dragged her back to her dorm, allowing her full weight to hang on them, too tired to lift her own feet. By the time, they dropped her back onto her bed and closed the handcuff around her wrist, she was already drifting off to sleep.

The soldiers locked the door to the communal dormitory and began to return to their post. They didn't believe so much in the science mess that the scientists had insisted on developing whilst these girls were being trained as weapons. But they had assisted them for the past number of months in breaking the young girl and all it had taken was some photographs of her dead family. The scientists would be smug that they had been right about that theory. The soldiers had been pre-warned about the girl. That she was different, not that any of the girls in this place were normal. They thought that they had prepared themselves, but they had felt that girl in their heads and they couldn't help but wonder if she knew what they had done.


	5. Chapter 5

Belarus, 1995.

"Again." Her teacher instructed, disdain clear on her face. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her lips were drawn so tight they were almost invisible. The final girl stepped up to the mat where Elena already stood, waiting for her last opponent. Her fists were bloody through the white bandages tied around her knuckles and sweat dripped from her skin. Her vest stuck to her back awkwardly and her hair had fallen loose and caught in the corners of her mouth. She had already beaten seven girls who now lined the far edge of the mat, nursing their various wounds, their punishment having been decided that they were unable to see the nurses to have them treated. Elena raised her fists again, the weight of her tired muscles pulling down on her arms. Her breathing was shallow and slow and her eyes were narrow as she maintained eye contact with the girl in front of her. The skin on her lips was pulled tighter with every intake of breath.

The scientists had taken sudden interest in her sparring sessions as soon as her abilities had become apparent. It was clear they had an agenda for her, they wanted to know exactly what she could do so they could know how much they could use her. What they weren't aware of was that she had an agenda of her own, she had begun to listen in on their thoughts as soon as she had learnt how to control her abilities. She taught herself not to rely too heavily on her telepathy, it was exhausting being in the heads of others, especially when their minds were so warped.

Elena no longer encountered Montgomery, she hadn't even seen him wander the halls of the academy like the other scientists did. It had been six years since she'd arrived in Belarus and the older girls were gifted the privilege of walking where they wanted, within reason. The library for extra reading, the dance studio for extra practice. One of the last things Montgomery had said to her was something a philosopher had said that had influenced the program that would mould her into the assassin she would become.

" _They are a horrible plague, poisonous like snakes, except they inflict a worse torture by dispatching their victims with a lingering death lasting three days…Their tail is always engaged in striking and does not stop practicing at any moment, lest it should miss an opportunity."_

She had tried to disregard his words as soon as he had finished them but she hadn't been able to stop herself dwelling on their message. She would be like a Scorpion, always poised and armed for a fight, she would not miss a single opportunity… against anyone. She had noticed that the soldiers had begun acting wary around her since the night her abilities became apparent and she couldn't deny it gave her a sense of power.

The girl fell at her feet, the blow that had ended her fight had been a heel kick to the jaw and Elena had felt the bone crunch on impact. Her abilities had made sparring easy, she'd been listening on how the girls planned to beat her before each of them had even stepped onto the mat.

The teacher moved from her position at the edge of the mat and approached Elena as she lowered bloody fists to her side and tried to conceal the relief she felt that it was over. Disdain had been replaced with a look of dignity, as if Elena was now worth something to her and not just a breathing punching bag that could be disposed of if unfit for purpose.

"Unbreakable." She commented, addressing it to the scientists as a soldier entered the room. The two who had been guarding the door saluted him and Elena found herself curious as to his identity, feeling like she had seen him before.

"Unbreakable." Her teacher repeated. "Like steel." The scientists nodded and compared notes whilst the other girls were dismissed. The soldier approached her and looked down with disgust that she was so used to seeing, there was no fear in his eyes, either because he did not know what she could do or because she was not worth his fear.

"If you compare steel to steel, of course it is unbreakable. But the strongest steel will become brittle and break under the forces of Winter." Elena was too exhausted to figure out what his riddle meant but she could sense that her teacher knew exactly what he was saying.

"There has only been one before her who showed as much promise and she is now pride of both this Academy and the motherland. Marakova will follow in her footsteps, of that I have no doubt. The marble survived the Winter and so will the Steel." The soldier huffed in disagreement but retreated regardless. Elena felt a hand on her shoulder and instinct took over as she flinched heavily and stepped away, clenching her fists. Her actions didn't shock her teacher, she seemed to be almost proud of her. She instructed Elena to attend the nurses station, have her wounds tended and be ready for her ballet class. She left the room without another word.

Elena knew to expect another sparring session the next day and true to routine, the girls changed for their session straight after ballet. The teacher was waiting for her outside of the communal dorm and Elena expected to be led to the normal gym but instead she was separated from the other girls and taken down an unknown wing of the Academy.

"You have performed beyond expectation." Her teacher said, deadpan voice bouncing off the walls. "You are unbreakable, I mean this. But people insist that you can be broken and they will try and do this your whole life. You must not let them. You must be steel."

Elena kept her eyes trained on the canvas shoes on her feet as she trod down the unfamiliar hall, the air felt colder with each advancing step. The teacher stopped outside a set of double doors and turned to look down at her protégé, affection was strictly forbidden in this place and she knew that. Not that it mattered, it wasn't affection she felt, but concern as if a pet was about to run in front of an oncoming car and she had no way to stop it. She placed a thin hand on Elena's shoulder and opened her mouth to try and offer some words of comfort, but they failed her and so she resumed her deadpan stance and opened the doors in front of them. Freezing air rushed into the hall and encircled them both, she saw Elena tense out of the corner of her eye before sighing and resuming a calm and collected posture.

Elena followed her teacher into the room and examined the people waiting there. Two soldiers guarded the far door and another, the one who had commented on her sparring the previous day, was conversing with a scientist who looked distinctly out of place. Elena hadn't seen him before and guessed he wasn't residing in the Red Room but when he looked up it was clear he knew all about her. An identical sparring mat to the one she was used to sat in the centre of the room and an unfamiliar figure stood at the far end, partially shrouded in shadow. A shiver ran through her as she examined his face, his eyes were fixed on the floor in front of him and his arms were behind his back, like a soldier stood to attention. His mouth and jaw was covered with a black mask, preventing him from talking. It reminded her of a neighbour she'd met once in New York, he'd had an aggressive black dog that he had to keep muzzled every time he went outside, her mother said it had bitten other children before. Elena knew from the layout in the room that she was going to have to fight the stranger and her teachers feeble attempt at reassurance in the hall suddenly made sense. Concern had been clear and it made her nervous, an emotion she was not comfortable with.

She reached out with her mind, getting broken conversations from the others in the room but when she focused in on her target she was surprised, there was no thoughts in his head at all. He wasn't thinking about how he was going to beat her, how to catch her by surprise. There were just words repeating, they didn't make any sense to her, they seemed to be completely unrelated but they were always in the same order.

The soldier from the previous day turned to Elena and smirked and stepped forward.

"According to your teachers, you are the best the Red Room has to offer." He gestured to the muzzled man behind him. "This is the best HYDRA has to offer. If you can prove yourself, we may have a place for you with us." Elena scowled slightly, refusing to give away the fear she felt, she hadn't felt scared in a long time and it was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Elena turned to her teacher who nodded sternly, silently telling her not to let them down. She stepped to the side of the mat and Elena stepped into the middle, the figure mirroring her movements. He was much taller than her, and she thought, he was even taller than her Father had been. But then again, he could have seemed so tall because she never grew to be above his waist. The man assumed a fighting stance slightly different to hers, there was no defensive fists raised, like he knew Elena wouldn't have a chance to hit him. Her stomach turned when she spotted that his left arm was not of flesh like a normal man, the metal of it glinted under the heavy lights.

… _does not stop practising, lest it should miss an opportunity._

"Fight." The soldier instructed.

She managed to block several hits and got a few good kicks in on his ribs – she knew she'd fractured at least two. But when it mattered, her opponent was highly effective. He managed to strike the back of his hand to her ear causing her ear drum to scream and ring, disorientating her hearing and compromising her balance. A punch to her chest in close succession knocked the air clean out of her lungs, and she coughed and gasped for air that wasn't allowed to enter her body whilst still trying to duck from his continuous strikes. She stood too quickly after slipping under one arm and he quickly jabbed his elbow back and she fell to her hands and knees as pain shot through the back of her head where he had made contact her skull. Her traumatised lungs still refused to inflate as she gasped for air and a kick to her back, right between her shoulder blades forced her to buckle under the force and her body hit the mat.

"Enough." The soldier instructed and her opponent backed away instantly. A cough brought up a splattering of blood as her lungs finally relaxed and Elena felt the soothing sensation of air in her chest. She forced herself to her feet - vision blurry and mouth tasting of metallic - and wiped the blood dripping from her ear away on her shoulder, glaring at her opponent who once again stared at the floor like he was in a trance. She retreated to the edge of the mat where the soldier was still smirking and her teacher sighed, Elena decided it was a sigh of both disappointment and relief.

She began to follow her teacher from the room when suddenly an image flashed in her mind and it caught her off guard, this was a new aspect to her powers she hadn't experienced before. Two men were sat at a table in a dark room. One of the men was extremely skinny, skinnier than she remembered, the skin on his face pulled taut against his bones. Matvei Ivanakov was shaking and his eyes were sunken into his skull. The man opposite him looked considerably healthier, in a neatly pressed KGB uniform, the red star moving on his sleeve as he took notes based on what Matvei was saying. He then picked up a small polaroid from the table, showing Darya and Nikolai climbing into the small plane.

" _Paris, that's as far as I took them. They went to America from there."_ Matvei said with a withering amount of determination.

" _Thank you, Mr Ivanakov. As agreed you will be handsomely rewarded for helping to expose these traitors."_ The soldier stood and Elena saw his face for the first time. Her head snapped around to the soldier who stood at the side of the mat, the one who had questioned her resilience, who was smirking still. He paid her no further attention and she couldn't feel the pain anymore for the rage that burned within.

It took only a day for Elena to recover from her injuries, the injections she'd been forced to endure in the Gold Room had made her more resilient to pain, sending recovery times through the roof and transforming sleep into a choice instead of a necessity. She had re-joined the other girls as if there had never been a break in her routine, her steps in ballet were perfect and she continued to spar with the other girls. Her class lessons had become significantly more advanced in the years she had spent in the Red Room, lessons on infiltration, constant exams on languages, of which she now spoke five fluently. She knew the U.S. government system inside and out and most importantly, she knew how to live in the shadows whilst walking down any street in any country in broad daylight. On the outside, her peers could see nothing different, but on the inside, she was perfecting her abilities, mainly through listening in on the thoughts of the other soldiers who freely wandered the Academy and a list was beginning to grow.

At the top, Matvei Ivanakov. Selling her parents to the government after he'd sworn to protect them and costing her mother and father their lives for a bit of money. Second, the soldier he'd sold the information to, Vasily Karpov. She had learnt his name after having learnt the role he had played in her parent's murder, he had led the operation to New York to kill her parents and it was his actions that still had Elena waking up from nightmares in the middle of the night, soaked in cold sweats. Montgomery found himself at third place, he had exposed a dormant volcano in her and used it to transform her into a machine to do his bidding. Into a girl who at the age of eleven, felt years older and didn't fear death, but understood it as her job to deliver it. Her list continued to grow with every passing day. She discovered that almost everyone in the Red Room bar the other girls had a role to play in her being here in one way or another. Her teacher hadn't. Elena was sure of it, but she had made Elena kill Mara, the one friend and Alyona had always taught 'an eye for an eye' and so she joined the names.

She was left to her own devices, most nights. Ever since an incident where her exhaustion had resulted in an outburst of anger that had resulted in Elena somehow forcing a man to bang his own head against the wall until he had knocked himself unconscious. She used these nights alone to perfect her skills, before long she noticed that white sparks would sometimes jump between her fingers when she wanted one of the other girls to do something, like lightning during a summertime storm. She could only get them to sit up in bed or lay back down. The handcuff was annoyingly restricting.

She sparred with the same strange man again a week after the first time, and again the week after that and though he continued to beat her, she could hold out for longer periods of time and eventually she found herself predicting his moves. He had a sequence and whilst it was long, he eventually repeated it and then she held the upper hand.

It was snowing outside the day she finally beat him. She hadn't realised it was happening until her foot made contact with his ribs and he fell heavily to the mat and didn't return to his feet straight away. As she brought her heel down and shifted her weight back onto the foot, she looked up to the soldiers who always accompanied her opponent to and from the Red Room. The smirking stopped and they looked surprised, even a little impressed.

"Finally." One of them said. "You have become steel. Yes, I think we can find a place for you with us, in Siberia."

Elena's teacher stepped in.

"She hasn't yet completed her training here with the girls…" She was cut off the by the soldier who shot her a stern glare.

"From what I can see, she is fully trained. And we will train her ourselves regardless. Next week. We will return for her then."

Elena lay in her bed in the dark that night, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Her teacher had been silent as she had accompanied Elena back to the dorm. Only muttering something about it 'not being under her control' before cuffing Elena to the bed and leaving. Unable to sleep, she tossed and turned, her mind running wild with anxiety-filled thoughts of the frozen wasteland that was Siberia, being trapped with a muzzled dog and soldiers who killed unborn babies.

 _No._

I've had enough. I've been stolen and trained like a prized animal to dance at their circus. They've made me into this monster so know they're going to see what she can really do.

My chances are slim but I won't let that stop me. It's escape or death.

And I'm not ready to die.


	6. Chapter 6

Belarus. 1996.

I hadn't realized that the following week from my encounter with the masked soldier would be the start of a new year. I had forgotten about my birthday again, but I wasn't surprised to find it didn't bother me anymore. A birthday was just a record, a piece of paper people could use to find you, proof of your very existence. A birthday is a celebration shared by friends and family and I don't have either of those. Outside of the Red Room, Elena Marakova doesn't exist and that's the way I want it to remain, it will be so much easier to begin to scratch names of my list if the targets don't even know they're on it.

The only celebration in the Red Room that mattered was the graduation ceremony and the oldest girl, the last one standing of her intake group, was getting ready to leave. She didn't have a suitcase to pack or any personal belongings to leave to the five youngest girls who still sobbed in their beds at night, thinking no one could hear them. She stood proudly as she was led down the main hall, dressed in a long heavy coat to protect her against the wind. We stood in neat rows, creating a path for her to walk down, like soldiers saluting a fellow comrade as they ventured into the field of battle. Though her posture exuded confidence, her face was melancholy and as if she was trying to conceal pain. I watched the soldiers lock the doors after they had closed them behind her and made sure I could recognize the face of the soldier who held the keys. He stuffed them into a pocket on his trousers before grasping hold of his rifle once again and standing to attention. I kept my head low as we returned to our scheduled classes.

My time here is coming to an end.

My powers have peaked now, not only can I hear the thoughts of others and get glimpses into their memories, but I can manipulate them, something I'll use against the key keeper if necessary. I don't find it particularly enjoyable, but desperation will make a girl do strange things. I am tired of being their puppet. It's time for them to be mine. I still feel the occasional tug of the strings the teachers use to keep me under control, but they don't scare me anymore. Fear has been programmed out of me, it's a distracting emotion to feel during a mission, and anything that could be a distraction must be eradicated instantly. I think they can feel that they're losing their grip on me, but none of them seem to do anything. Maybe they've truly given up on the cause as well. If the Soviet Empire was going to come back, it would have already done it by now, the world is moving on around us but behind the walls we still live in the glory days of the USSR.

Another scar has joined the few others that mark my skin. From my most recent spar with the strangely masked soldier, I finally learned his name whilst I laid wheezing on the sparring mat with a punctured lung. They called him soldier when talking to him, but they called him Winter when talking about him. I had asked my teacher and she had explained The Winter Soldier was HYDRA's pride project and I should consider myself lucky that they wanted to take me on as well. Surgery had been necessary to rectify my injuries and I had welcomed the prospect of a general anaesthetic, escaping the harsh reality that was my day to day life. However, the doctors decided only a local anaesthetic was necessary, that was five days ago, and I still had the imprint of my teeth in the back of my hand where the pain relief had failed as its job. I knew it was punishment for failing to win in the fight, there was never a loss without consequences. I held my wound dressing tenderly as I did my best to look like I was absentmindedly wandering the halls, never going anywhere in particular. The soldiers paid me no heed anymore, as far as they were concerned, I wouldn't be a problem after tomorrow.

Karpov had stayed true to his word and my teacher had informed me I would be taken to Siberia to continue my training under HYDRA handlers. She had smiled when she said it, emphasizing that it was a great honour, but her thoughts indicated otherwise. I knew what awaited me in Siberia and it made the Red Room seem like my old home in St. Petersburg. Despite it all, I'd manufactured a comfort of my own in this place, the way the setting sun would cast deep orange glows through the high windows in our ballet studio and in winter, when it got dark so early in the evening, the stars would fill the floor as they shone through the skylight in the ceiling and you could almost pretend they were stage lights at the Bolshoi or the Mariinsky. I'd made my decision that night, watching the stars twinkle overhead. I was leaving, and no one was going to stand in my way.

I maintained the perfect façade until the right moment hit. I continued to excel in my ballet classes, there was only three of us now, a girl I'd not made any attention to remember and the same girl who I should have sparred with the day I was made to kill Mara. A part of me wanted to stay - until I would have the opportunity to end her the way it should have happened when we were younger. But I knew it would have only postponed the inevitable, I came into this program in a group of twenty girls. But only one of us was going to walk out of those doors alive.

I kept my eye on the teachers as they locked away the guns we had finished cleaning and reassembling. The Bizon was the latest sub-machine gun to be manufactured on the Russian market and the soldiers had replaced all their old firearms with them. They were foolish, the soldiers used us to maintain their weapons. I knew that at least two of them would find the springs catching in their guns tonight. The teacher kept the small metal key to the locker on a piece of string around her neck. Terribly crude and surprisingly lax, but useful for me regardless and I wasn't about to turn away any mistakes that would make this escape easier.

I snuck into the dorm during the time between classes and unscrewed the stand to my bed. The fixing was old and rusty, so it didn't provide much resistance as I pulled the leg away, slipped the handcuff off and placed it under my pillow. They didn't bother to lock us up themselves anymore, instead, they opted to have us hold up our wrist, so they could see the handcuff around it. The New Year appeared to have marked a turning point for the Red Room. Hardly any new girls were brought in, the world was moving on outside of these cold walls and it was apparent even to those of us who were kept here against our will.

The night came almost too quickly, and I felt sure that I had forgotten to do something, but as I cuffed my wrist and felt it still move freely, I was confident in my plan that before the sun rose, I would be walking out of this place and away from this life. I didn't know what was on the other side of the doors that led out into the snow, but I was willing to take my chances.

The silence was heavy as the girls in my dorm succumbed to sleep, though their eyes were closed I still let myself invade their thoughts to make sure. Some of them were dreaming of being ballerina's, performing at the Bolshoi, maybe that was the new lie they were being told to get their families to hand them over to the Red Room. That this was an intense ballet school, promising them fame and money. Other's dreamed of their homes and their families, sat in front of warm fireplaces. I sighed as I sat up, removing my nightdress and exposing the vest and shorts we sparred in underneath. I made a mental note to find something more suitable to wear before I ventured out into the snow, if I even lived to get that far. The handcuff clinked against itself as I slipped my shoes on, got to my feet and began to weave in and out of the empty beds that still filled the dorm.

"What are you doing?" I froze at the accusing voice behind me, turning my head slightly, the girl I hadn't learned to remember was sitting up in her bed, her wrist handcuffed to the bed, her eyes flickered down to my wrist.

"Go back to sleep," I instructed, hoping she would listen to me and do as she was told. I hadn't considered what would happen to the other girls who were as much prisoners here as I was. But I couldn't let them go free, they would know my face and if anyone is going to know how to best you, it is someone who was once an ally. I turned to face her and slowly made my way to her bedside.

"What's your name?" I questioned. She hesitated, and I could almost hear the cogs turning in her head.

"Lydia." She narrowed her eyes, her confidence faltering, she was tugging gently on the handcuff. "What's yours?" I sighed, as a decision came to pass, and my teacher's words replayed in my head.

 _Mercy is weakness and weaknesses are not tolerated. It's kill or be killed._

"It doesn't matter," I replied simply, and I sighed as I picked up the pillow from the bed next to her. Lydia's eyes flashed as realization dawned on her face, I pressed the fabric down against her nose and mouth before she could call for help. Her one free hand scratched down my arm, my skin whelping and beginning to bleed. Eventually, her chest heaved, and she exhaled deeply, after a few moments her hand fell away from my arm and I lifted the pillow away from her face. The areas around her nose and mouth had turned pale blue and her eyes were clenched shut. I stood up and turned away from her. The other girl was still asleep and the youngest girls at the other end of the room were still sleeping soundly. I would deal with them first.

We had been taught how to be creative when it came to completing missions. I knew that one of the empty classrooms held bottles of nearly every lethal poison to mankind. I needed something that I could leave to work on its own. Foraging through the old cupboards – the locks had been old when I'd arrived and now they gave way with a slight tug - I found the small jar of Cyanide. The small crystals rattling around in the bottom. I retrieved a candle, a small metal tray, and a mesh stand. On my way out, I spotted a small knife foolishly left on the desk at the front, I snatched it up in my grip and slipped it down my waistband.

The halls were empty as I slipped back into the dorm and silently closed the door. Everyone else was still sleeping. I counted eleven different thought processes without looking up from the small metal tray I tipped the crystals into. Placing it in the middle of the room, I lit the candle underneath and stepped back as the light fumes began to curl up from the crystals and disappear into the air. I quickly left the dorm and locked the door behind me. It wouldn't take long for them to go and I hoped it would relatively painless. They weren't my enemies, but they might one day become just that, and I already knew I had enough to deal with.

My steps were silent as I made my way to the teacher's room. They each had private rooms to sleep in that I had thought would be kept locked, but as I came to her room, I was surprised to see the door ajar, I removed the knife from my waistband and tentatively pushed the door open, wincing as it squeaked on its hinges. She was sat on her perfectly made bed, staring at the blank wall. A small smile appeared when I stepped into the doorway.

"I had figured this time was coming." There was a moment of silence as I waited to see if she would say anything else.

"Are you not going to try and stop me?" I questioned, she turned to me then, a glimpse of sympathy in her eyes.

"You will try and kill me, regardless. So why should I bother?" Her lack of resistance was beginning to annoy me, I hadn't considered she might be trying to stall me.

"For the glory of the motherland! Or do you not believe in that anymore?" She chuckled.

"I stopped believing in the glory of our country long ago." I took a step forward, my grip tightening around the knife handle.

"Then why have you kept me here? Why have you continued to recruit new girls?"

"This goes much deeper than you can comprehend. Did you honestly think it would be easy? I don't care what you do, girl. I've moulded you into the thirteen-year-old who stares death in the face and does not flinch. But if you think you are going to escape this place, you are wrong. They will kill you before you make it to the doors."

"Well, at least you won't be in my way." I stepped forward and plunged the small knife into her chest, I knew the exact place to fit the blade in between the ribs so the blade didn't break away from the handle. I grasped the key from around her neck and the weight of her body snapped the string as she slumped to the floor, choking on the blood that filled her lungs.

The Academy was still silent as I unlocked the gun locker and strapped two of the Bizon's over each of my shoulders and a third in my hands. My vest and shorts didn't have pockets so extra ammunition was not a possibility. I had 192 rounds that had to get me to freedom and I was not going to waste a single bullet.

I closed the door of the classroom, and as I made my way past her room, I pulled the teacher's door shut. Her lifeless eyes staring out to the hallway. I couldn't help but think about the girls in my dorm. I hoped they weren't suffering, they didn't deserve to but to leave them alive would leave them to die regardless, I didn't plan on leaving anyone alive to un-cuff them in the morning and they would eventually die of starvation, restrained to their beds.

As I stepped into the main hall, the moonlight was shining through the skylight and casting the ballet studio in an almost mythical glow. I let my defences drop as I found my mind wander to what I would do once I was out of the Red Room. I was so lost in my daydream I didn't notice the whistle of the bullet until it just grazed my skin and plummeted into the window in front of me, smashing the glass. I spun on my heel and pulled the trigger as the glass of the window fell around me, cutting into my bare arms and legs. The soldier fell with a heavy thumb and suddenly a loud siren began to scream, breaking the silence of the night. I ran to the soldier, checked he was dead, pulled his hunting blade from his pocket and slipped into an alcove as three more soldiers came running down the hall. I watched them from my concealed spot as they looked over their dead comrade. None of them were armed, fools. They were easy to take out, the first had his throat slit and my hands were suddenly soaked in warm blood. The other two were too slow to respond to my gun and both fell when I pulled the trigger again.

I couldn't deny I was surprised at how easy it seemed. I didn't have to physically fight any of the soldiers. Sixteen of them fell to either my gun or my knife. To my irritation, however, the seventeenth, the key keeper, was not amongst them. I searched each of them, thoroughly going through their pockets and sighing in annoyance when the keys were nowhere to be found. Eventually, I found a key card, I had only seen one other door than the Gold Room that warranted a key card.

I was down to my last gun. The knife I kept reusing, it was a surprisingly useful tool and I was beginning to feel rather attached to it. I had taken a holster from a soldier's uniform and fastened it around my own leg. I finally came across a heavy metal door that needed a key card to open it. I pressed the plastic against the screen and it beeped as I heard the hydraulics hiss and the door opened. I slipped inside, and it shut behind me, the locks clunking heavily as a light flickered on and I took in the sight of me.

Black suits lined the far wall, with an assortment of weapons in between. Guns, both rifles and handguns, pistols and hand grenades hung on small hooks. Grappling hooks, small metal discs, and bracelets that buzzed with electricity were sat in glass topped drawers.

I dropped my rifle to the floor and approached the black suits on the wall, they were a sleek design, a strong, most likely stab resistant fabric. On the left arm was the Red Star Emblem and on the other, a black spider with a red flash on its back. One suit however, had the Red Star on one arm and on the other was a white Scorpion, contrasting heavily against the dark fabric. The suit meant for me when I was ready to graduate. I quickly undressed and re-dressed into the suit, zipping it up until the silver zip sat at the nape of my neck. It seemed to mould to my body, almost shrinking itself until it was like a second skin. The sleeves stretched into fingerless gloves and a button in my palm lit up a strip on each arm and leg as well as the Scorpion emblem on my left arm. I strapped the knife holster onto my leg and clipped a gun holster to the other. I left the soldiers rifle on the floor and picked up a newer, sleeker looking model from the wall, strapping it over my shoulder. I took a handful of the small electrical discs and put them in a small pocket. The boots also had a small knife holster and so I strapped that to my ankle as well. A large full-length mirror hung in the room and I was surprised when I caught my reflection, it had been so long since I'd seen what I'd looked like that I had to take a few moments to see how I'd changed. My red hair was so much longer, with a natural wave to it that ended just above my navel. My eyes were grey like storm clouds and my skin was a milky white.

I snapped out of my trance and picked up the key card, unlocking the door once again and waiting until it locked behind me before resuming my search for the key keeper. As I wandered down unfamiliar halls, the windows began to get bigger, letting more light through and almost teasing at the prospect of freedom.

He knew I was coming when I found the door. 'Monitoring' was written above it and I knew he had been watching me all night. He was probably arming himself as he watched me through the small camera that was mounted just down the hall but as I watched it I noticed there was no red light. It didn't work. I stepped aside so I was parallel to the door, pressed the key card to the screen and waited as it beeped, and the door opened. A spray of bullets came through the doorway before it had finished opening, I gripped my own weapon tightly and waited for the crucial seconds I would have when he had to stop to reload. Eventually he did stop, and I spun on my heel to fire into the room. When my own magazine ran out, I dropped the rifle to the floor and took the knife from my holster, raising it above my face as I slowly stepped into the room, he hadn't been caught by the fire but there was only so many places to hide in the small room. I saw the chain of keys on the desk where a bank of monitors sat, a view into every room of the Academy. How had I never noticed them before? They had watched us dance, train, sleep and they had watched me be tortured every night for a year.

"No one else has survived. You are not going to be the exception." I warned. The adrenaline that had flooded my system when the shooting had begun had subsided and I felt calm, almost tired.

"How scared can you be of a thirteen-year-old girl?" I questioned mockingly.

"Who said I'm scared?" He finally answered me, stepping out from a shadowed corner. A sadistic grin spread across his lips and I adjusted the grip on my knife as he lunged at me. He was almost manic, and the lack of control and planned moves caught me off guard. He took hold of my shoulders and lifted them up before slamming them back down into the desk and my neck snapped back violently, my head banging against the table, causing me to bite my tongue. I slashed my blade at him, but he slammed his hands down on my ears and I yelled out in pain as my ear drums began to ring loudly and my hearing became disorientated, it put me off balance. I thought he would take the opportunity to run or to kill me, but instead, he stood and laughed, mocking me. I closed eyes and waited for the ringing to dim, his laughing becoming clearer as my hearing began to return.

"You're no threat, little girl. Just some freak with alien DNA. HYDRA will get here in the morning and you will go to Siberia. If you're lucky they'll kill you quickly. If I'm lucky they'll torture you fi…"

I lunged forward and raised my hand, plunging the knife blade into his eye socket. I felt a crunch up the handle before I pulled it out again. He screamed out in pain and writhed around on the floor as I caught my breath and resumed my calm demeanour. I took the pistol from its holster and pulled the trigger and he was silenced instantly, the blood from his forehead wound combining with the blood seeping from his eye.

I took the keys from the desk and slowly, made my way to the main doors. All that had been between me and freedom was one single key. The Red Room was silent, and it would remain that way for the rest of time. I left the doors open, the starving wolves would smell the blood soon enough.

I marched out into the snow, the prevailing wind was bitterly cold, but my suit was surprisingly warm, and I welcomed the chance to feel the fresh air in my lungs when I'd been deprived of such a simple thing for so long.

A heavy military truck was parked to the side of the building and with a quick snap, the neck of the driver was broken, and he slumped out of the seat and to the frozen earth. There was no need to worry about concealing the body, the wildlife would take care of him too. I climbed into the truck, slammed the door and arranged the mirrors.

I'm not a child anymore, they killed her a long time ago. Elena Marakova doesn't exist, she died with her parents and unborn sibling in New York. There is only one name they will know me by and they will fear it until the day they die.

Scorpion.

I turned the key in the ignition, entirely calm for the first time in years. There was no threat hanging over my shoulders anymore. My time of being someone's puppet was over.

 _I've got no strings to hold me down…_

The heavy truck eventually roared to life and I watched in the rear-view mirror as the Academy began to sink into the darkness behind me.

… _to make me fret or make me frown…_

Elena Marakova died a little girl in New York, all those years ago. The Red Room continued to chip away at the little girl until I'm all that's left.

… _I once had strings, but now I'm free…_

I pulled onto a deserted road and pressed my foot onto the accelerator and glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I smirked at the spattered blood that covered my skin.

… _there are no strings on me._


	7. Chapter 7

Moscow. 2000.

I slowly sipped the bitter, hot drink by the window of the secluded and entirely ordinary café. Rain had been sliding down the glass pane for the past forty minutes, but I was still able to make out the figure of the man I was patiently waiting for. The heavy scent of burnt coffee beans and the gentle clinking of ceramic mugs combining with the low conversations of the other patrons was oddly calming and tranquil, allowing my pulse to maintain a steady pace and myself to give off the façade of being someone entirely ordinary. My hands were wrapped tightly around my own mug as memories of the man I was trailing, and the Gold Room flooded back in unpleasant and nausea-inducing waves. I didn't even know his name, never having taken the time to learn it, but he had stood aside whilst I had been tortured for over a year and that ignorance could not and would not go unpunished. He may have simply been working in the Red Room out of necessity, I knew that highly intelligent scientists had been 'recruited' into the programme. Recruited just being a word to use instead of forced. Regardless, I was not about to let him go on with a normal life as a banker whilst I lived in crappy cash rented apartments and occasionally took low-money jobs that usually consisted of me, in a brunette wig with brown contacts, threatening people who owed money. It was extremely boring and mundane, but an enemy of the KGB makes it her daily responsibility to stay below the radar. Russia may have moved on politically in the eyes of the world but domestically, there were groups still loyal to the old days and I would be top of their list for destroying the Scorpion and Black Widow programmes.

I watched as the scientist, age showing clearly on his face, ran from the bank to his car, hunched over to fend off the rain. He got in and slammed the door, his profile becoming blurred through the heavy downpour. I quickly swallowed the last of my drink, left some change on the table and stepped out into the rain, marching across the road and to the driver's window, giving a light tap on the glass. He unrolled it without looking at me, instead cupping his hand against the rain so he could light a cigarette. As the lighter failed to spark, he groaned in annoyance and looked up at me, realisation dawned on his face as he recognised me. I smiled sweetly down at him, my coat preventing anyone else from seeing my face.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it? You seem to have done okay for yourself. Your eldest son, he's off to University next year, isn't he?" He couldn't answer me but instead nodded slowly. I offered my most sincere smile as I rummaged in my coat pocket and found a lighter.

"Keep it. I've no need for it anyway. I hope your son makes something of himself." I allowed my expression to change to one of malice, and the man responded accordingly, fear apparent on his face as he hesitantly took the lighter from me. "I wouldn't want him to end up like his father." I nodded again, tapped the door frame and walked back across the street. I lowered my hood further over my face as the explosion from the car sent a shockwave of warm air to break the cold and then the acrid smell of burning rubber. I smiled to myself, this game really was too easy. His cause of death would be indeterminable, the accelerant in the lighter would burn at the temperature of aviation fuel fire. Ruining all traces of DNA and identification from his body. Brittle bones would be all that was left, and they would crumble to dust under anyone's touch.

I turned briefly to watch the flames engulf the car, burning furiously against the heavy rain. General passers-by had quickly taken out their phones and were calling for emergency services and they continued to run towards and flock around the burning car, as I headed in the opposite direction. Head down and mind on my next target.

I smirked slightly at the false burgundy passport that had my boarding pass enclosed, I held both in a firm grip as the passenger jet began its decent. Emiline Mercier was travelling from Moscow to New York, having done her fine art trip of Europe, she was heading into one of the most culturally diverse cities in the world to explore its own artistic history. I, however, am visiting for a very different reason. I hadn't worked entirely alone since I'd escaped Belarus and Yuri was the best fraudster I knew. I had five different identities under five different nationalities thanks to him and it was his latest one that would get me face to face with a man I hadn't seen in years.

Senator Warren had not aged gracefully. Liver spots dotted his skin where thick hair used to be. A five-year old's memory isn't the most competent one, but I knew it was him as soon as he had stepped into the foyer of the five-star-hotel. A young secretary scurried after him, listing off the extensive number of things he had to do that day. I sat in the waiting area, enjoying the feeling of the plush cushions under my fingers. The whole building oozed wealth and it was something I was not used to. However, I blended right into the opulent surroundings and the well-dressed patrons who frequented it. The black dress I had donned was a well-made fabric with concealed pockets that kept my small blade hidden. It hugged my knees as I got to my feet to follow him and the curved neckline made it look like I was any other working woman. I had decided to keep my hair scraped up in a high ponytail, my unbrushed hair was knotty and its errant curls didn't look the neatest, but it wasn't my biggest concern as I slipped into a yellow taxi behind the black sedan that Senator Warren had gotten into with his obedient secretary.

I trailed him around the city all day. Following him to various luncheons and meetings. He may have retired from his full-time post, but his political influence was still strong. I sat three tables away from him whilst he laughed with old co-workers, his voice was booming, and I couldn't help but smirk as he bragged about how well retirement was treating him, how the various risks he had taken throughout his career had paid off. The grumbles of his associates suggested they didn't share in his joy. Eventually his secretary slipped away, and I quickly got up to follow her to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I caught my reflection in the mirror and smirked at my changed appearance. My red tresses had been concealed under a straight blonde wig and the coloured contacts had changed my eyes from cold grey to mossy green. Emiline Mercier was undeniably pretty and she was all the conference hall's seven CCTV cameras would pick up, a young fine art student simply travelling the world to satisfy her wanderlust.

Sometimes I forget I'm only seventeen. I can't help but wonder what other seventeen-year olds think about and what they do to occupy their time. I would imagine it's simple and drab things like college and fashion trends and boyfriends. I often feel so much older than the truth, but you have little choice when you're forced to grow up exceptionally fast. I enjoyed the sound my heels made as I sauntered over to the taps and poured a glass of water, opening the small red star charm on my bracelet and tapping the contents in. It dissolved instantly, leaving no trace of its existence. There were a few milligrams at most, but I had been assured it was potent enough to do the job.

Senator Warren's secretary came out of the cubicle, humming a song to herself as she began to wash her hands. I slipped up behind her and pressed a finger into her ribs, I knew it would give her the sensation of a knife blade being pressed against the skin, but I would rather not have to use my weapon unless necessary. She gasped, and her hands shot up in surrender as she watched my reflection in the mirror.

"I don't have any money." She sputtered, I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her autonomous response.

"I'm not here to mug or rob you. I just need information." She shook her head; her own blonde up-do beginning to come undone.

"I don't know anything. I swear."

"Do you know your bosses home address?" She nodded vigorously, and I offered my best sincere smile.

"Then you have exactly what I need." I kept my finger under her ribs as she scribbled the address down on a paper towel with her expensive fountain pen before I took it and crumpled it in my hand. I sighed as I removed the pressure from her back.

"There, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" She smiled shakily, opening and closing her mouth like a fish gasping for water. I picked up the small glass and offered it to her.

"What do you want with him?" She questioned as she lifted the glass to her lips. I smiled sweetly, leaning against the marble counter top, waiting patiently.

"We have unfinished business."

"He's a good man. Honestly, he's a bit abrupt but he's a good ma…" I swiftly caught the glass that fell from her hand as they both flew to her throat that was turning redder with the passing seconds. Her eyes began to match the colour and as she fell to her knees a small tear of blood escaped her brown eyes. I arched an eyebrow as she exhaled her final breath and went still on the marble floor. I had never seen the poison work before, but Yuri had said he had it on good faith that it was undetectable once it was in the system. The post mortem would reveal that her trachea had developed small porous holes, like acid burns, allowing vital oxygen to escape and that she had most likely died in pain, but they would never know what, or who caused it.

I stepped over her body and unlocked the bathroom door, checking the empty hall before I ran into the main dining area, screaming for help in French, putting on my best show of crocodile tears and as the staff and other patrons ran towards the bathroom I slipped through them all and out into the streets of New York.

Senator Warren had not lied when he boasted how well his retirement had been treating him. The gated mansion was grand and ostentatious, but my main concern was the highly technical security system that prevented me from gaining easy access to the grounds.

"Paranoid, Senator?" I asked myself as I knelt in front of the system and examined the nine-digit buttons. Fingerprints were easy enough to lift during the day and even easier at night. Someone who had this much security was most certainly worried about keeping things out and something told me that no one went through the elaborate metal gates without him buzzing them through.

I pressed the button of my suit in the palm of my hand and the strips lit up on each arm and each leg and the small Scorpion emblem on my left shoulder. The UV light exposed the oils left behind from his fingerprints as he'd pressed the same four buttons every day. 1-9-8-9. I pressed them myself and smiled proudly as the gates rolled open. I pressed the button again and the lights on my suit went out as I walked up the long driveway. I could feel the adrenaline beginning to pump through my system, but I forced out shaky breaths and mentally told myself to keep calm and collected. I had already reached his front door by the time he had gotten there himself to peer out over his now dark and silent front yard. I listened as he went back inside but didn't lock the door and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I slipped inside and clicked the lock behind me, better to make sure he can't get away easily, though I can't deny it is more fun when they try to run.

I followed the quiet sound of a TV set until I saw his head, sat at a large sofa watching some kind of frivolous show. The large bottle of half-empty Scotch on his coffee table and the empty glass suggested he'd had a rough evening. I rounded the sofa until he caught me moving in his peripheral vision. He made no attempt to reach for the phone next to him but simply sat and stared at me, the lights in the room were dim and I kept my face concealed in the shadows. I took my work very seriously but now and then I had to find ways to amuse myself and little clichés like making a dramatic entrance helped to keep me amused. I stayed silent, we both knew that I was the one in the position of power, he was an old man and I had been injected with every kind of enhancement serum that the Red Room had at hand. It would take someone much stronger than him to beat me.

"Have you come to kill me?" He questioned quietly, and I couldn't help but chuckle lightly.

"Is there really that many people trying, Senator? That explains the extensive security system."

"I know I'm not the most popular in D.C but…" I help up a hand and closed my eyes as his speech trailed off and the low murmur of the TV show was all that could be heard.

"I don't care about D.C. I don't care about your career or how popular you were."

"Then who are you and why are you here?" I arched an eyebrow at the demanding tone that laced his questions.

"Nikolai and Alyona Marakova." I whispered, for a second, I thought I hadn't spoken loud enough but he swallowed nervously and readjusted his hands in his lap.

"I don't kn…"

"You know exactly who I'm talking about so don't give me that bullshit." I said through gritted teeth.

"They were…just two people I helped in the 80's."

"What happened to them?" I questioned, my face still concealed in the shadows.

"They died, a robber broke into their home and killed them. There's a lot of organized crime in Washington Heights. It was no different back then." So that was the lie that he'd spun for the media. A home invasion gone wrong.

"What happened to their bodies?" I asked as memories of the night began to return to me as they so often did in my nightmares.

"They were buried, I saw it to myself. They had been assets to this country and they were laid to rest as such. All four of them."

"Four?"

"Their daughter, she was five. She died as well." My own hands curled into fists and the pressure in my palm lit up the strips on my suit, revealing my identity to the ageing man.

"Did she now?" His face dropped as I took a step closer to him.

"You're alive." He stated.

"You knew I was alive. Because you know how they died, they never died because of a 'home invasion'. They were murdered by the KGB along with my unborn sibling and you helped them, didn't you?" He remained silent as I moved closer and sunk into a brown leather armchair

"I look quite different, don't I?" I asked rhetorically. "I mean, it has been –phew – how many years has it been, Senator?" He stayed silent as his eyes flickered to his phone and back to me. I sighed and took my gun from its holster and screwed the silencer into the barrel before shooting the socket. He jumped violently, and I smiled again.

"It's been eleven years, Senator. That's how long. Eleven years since everything I had was taken away from me." He held up his hands in defeat but admitted to nothing.

"It was you, wasn't it? You killed Karen?"

"Was that her name? I didn't take the time to learn it to be honest. It all seems so irrelevant once I've decided that they're going to die. She really should have done her research before she started working for you."

"What do you want?" He asked, trying to sound authoritative, instead it came out as more of a plea.

"I want you to admit what you did. But first I have a few questions for you. If you answer them all truthfully then this will all be over soon enough. But if you lie then I will have to get…creative." I couldn't help but laugh at myself at the thought of how manic I must have sounded to the man sat in front of me. But he nodded regardless and so I got back to my feet.

"Firstly, let's establish a few things. One, you worked for the U.S government. Two, you swore to protect me and my family from the KGB. Three, you failed." Senator Warren nodded slowly.

"Ok, so first question. Why did you kill my parents?"

"I didn't. You've already said that. It was the KGB, I kept up my end of the deal and your father kept up his. There was no reason for the KGB to have found you." I nodded at the truth of his statement.

I sighed in annoyance. "And yet they did. And you know what else has bothered me for the past eleven years? All the years of my captivity in a secret compound where they trained me to be…this. They were all in full uniform. During the Cold War, KGB soldiers were in New York in full uniform and no one spotted them? No one reported them? I remember my neighbours and they were all nosy as hell, so someone saw something but they all kept quiet. Why was that?"

"I wasn't even in New York that night. I got the call when I was in D.C for a presidential dinner."

"You were the State Senator for New York; do you honestly expect me to believe that you knew _nothing_ about a group of fully dressed KGB officers coming into your city?" Senator Warren shook his head and I sighed once again as a headache began to encroach across my temples.

"I didn't want to have to do this, because more than anything else, it's really tiring. But I don't have all night. I've got a flight to catch in the morning, so we really need to hurry this along." I closed my eyes and reached into his memories of that night, and the nights leading up to it. I didn't know what I was looking for, it was like searching through a rubble pile of memories, looking for a diamond of clarity, but eventually I found it.

I spun on my heels and raised my gun to his head, I had a perfect shot and my finger rested over the trigger.

"You gave them a flight path in your private jet over New York airspace because they paid you off? Was my family's life worth no more than $2 million?"

"You don't understand." He said quietly. "They threatened to hurt my family."

"And you promised to protect mine!" I shouted for the first time that evening, making him jump and surprising myself, I very rarely let my emotions get the better of me, but I could see my own hand shaking.

"Look, I didn't know they were going to kill your parents. They said they just wanted to talk to them, ask them why they left. I was just the messenger."

"Are you genuinely stupid? They were the KGB, you were at war with the USSR, you _knew_ what they did to defectors. And yet, for $2 million, you temporarily forgot all that."

"I did what I had to do to protect my family."

"And I'm just doing what it takes to avenge mine. You may have just been the messenger, Senator but I do believe in shooting the messenger. Do you know why?" Senator Warren shook his head, I smiled and pulled the trigger, the bullet silently leaving the barrel of my gun and landing directly in the bullseye of my target. I watched as he choked on his own blood where the bullet had gone straight through his neck and I slipped the gun back into its holster.

"It sends a message." I murmured to myself.


	8. Chapter 8

JFK International Airport. 2000.

I watched the departure board across the lounge through the lenses of my dark, oversized sunglasses. I was impatiently waiting for the status of my flight to St. Petersburg to change. The death of both Senator Warren and his secretary had sparked an increase in police presence around New York, particularly at the airport. To some degree I had expected it and I couldn't deny that I revelled in watching the public act that little more cautiously. Parents kept their children's hands in firm grips, eyeing the increased security presence monitoring the airport whilst I sat alone, completely lost in a sea of civilians. They had the unknown luxury of their hypervigilance being temporary, given a day or two, the whole event would be forgotten, and they could go back to living their carefree lives. I don't get that choice. I casually glanced at my new identity, smirking at Yuri's inventive mind. It was another Russian passport but again my name had changed. The reason behind my numerous identities were simple, unfortunately, I'd unwillingly attracted the attention of MI6 and the FSS – well my actions had – however the latter wasn't particularly productive, allowing me to live under their noses for a few years without being detected and continue my work effectively with few hiccups.

The brunette wig was heavy and making my scalp itch. My eyes matched and were a deep chocolate instead of my own steely grey. Eva Markov worked at the Kremlin as a simple secretary and is returning from a long weekend away from her demanding job. I sighed as the flight status on the departure board finally changed from 'waiting' to 'boarding' and I picked up the single black hand luggage bag I had and began to approach the check-in desk, falling in line with the other passengers.

The air felt familiarly cold when the flight landed in St. Petersburg and I was one of the first off, the jet and through the arrivals gate. I found myself longing to be back at the small apartment I called my home. It was hardly adequate, but it was safe and that was something I could never truly assure myself of when I was out working.

Shrugging my bag onto my shoulder, I began to navigate my way through the airport. Looking up briefly, I froze in my tracks when I spotted a suited man holding a placard;

 _Emeline Mercier._

I glanced around at the other passengers who were beginning to surround me as I pretended to occupy myself with examining my boarding pass. When I looked up again the man had made eye contact with me and I felt a swirl of unease in the pit of my stomach when he flipped the placard over;

 _Eva Markov._

This was it, HYDRA had finally found me. I'd been naïve to think I could escape their clutches, I hadn't doubted their octopus emblem was a metaphor when I was a child. Suspecting they had bases all over the world when I was in Belarus and like the old Soviet regime, there were most likely people still loyal to their cause. I chewed on my lower lip before caving, I wouldn't be able to slip out of an airport if it became a shooting range. I slowly making my way over to the strange man, cleared my throat and plastered a smile on my face.

"Da?" I questioned, slipping back into my native Russian language with ease.

"Miss Markov. I'm here to take you to your meeting." He responded, speaking English but with a thick familiar accent.

"I don't have a meeting. You must have the wrong person." I tried to excuse myself from the situation and began to walk away but he quickly caught up with me, grasping my arm.

"Miss Marakova. Please follow me, I don't want to have to make a scene." I swallowed thickly and despite the warning considered it anyway, there were a lot of people about, but most of them were children and guarded airport security were at the doors. It was a risk I just couldn't afford to take – especially with the Senator's death still fresh back in the States. I took a deep breath and offered the man a small smirk.

"Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Elena Marakova. The last graduate of the Red Room and Scorpion Programme. The latter also being the alias you are now commonly known by." I cleared my throat.

"Well. If you do know so much about me, it only seems fair that I know a bit more about you." He smiled sincerely and loosened his grip on my arm but not letting go as he escorted me to the exit of the airport.

"I'm Mr Vasiliev and I'm here to take you to your meeting."

I glanced speculatively at the abandoned warehouse that the dated beige car stopped outside of. It was an old Soviet-era propaganda office, the faint printing of the old sickle and hammer insignia could still be seen against the wind battered brick. Some of the glass from the windows were shattered and the whole area was genuinely run down. Mr Vasiliev quickly came from the front of the car to open the back door for me. I took my bag from the seat beside me and gripped the strap tightly, it might not have been easy to get to, but knowing I had a weapon concealed inside gave me some reassurance. Eva Markov's brunette wig was left on the seat and the coloured contacts were back in their small container in my bag, I had chosen instead, ones that would record whatever I saw. I admitted to myself it was a precautionary measure more than anything else. Sometimes, I marvelled at how advanced spy tech was, compared to general technology.

"This isn't exactly the kind of car I expected the KGB to have when they finally found me. It is an organisation known for theatrics, after all. I know you've been underground since '91 but this is ridiculous." He chuckled lightly, once again guiding me from the car and into the derelict warehouse.

"I don't work for the KGB, Miss Marakova." He stated as we climbed a set of stairs – he made sure to stay behind me – and he pushed open a set of double doors.

"Who do you work for, then?" I questioned before a different disembodied voice quickly answered my question.

"Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division." 

"Well, that certainly is a mouthful." I smirked as I took in the appearance of the man in front of me. He was dressed all in black with a long black trench coat and a black eye patch over one eye. A serious expression adorned his face that somehow didn't fade at all when he offered a small, false smile.

"I've been told." He replied simply, briefly gesturing to a table with two chairs facing each other. It was something reminiscent of an interrogation room and I found myself wondering if this was an interview or an interrogation.

"Have a seat, Miss Marakova." I hesitated as he flicked out his coat behind him and took one of the empty chairs.

"No, thank you. I'd rather stand." He smirked to himself as he tugged the lapels of his coat around his chest. My jaw clenched slightly, and I felt Mr Vasiliev leave the room and someone else enter.

"We've heard a lot about you, Miss Marakova." The man began

"So, it's not only you and your retriever?" I questioned rhetorically as the other occupant of the room rounded the table and sat down next to him. I arched an eyebrow at the red head. Her hair a few shades darker than my own, in tight ringlet curls, she was dressed in a black cat suit almost identical to my own that was folded neatly in the bottom of my bag. The only differentiation being that a different logo adorned her left shoulder.

"No, there are many of us and we are all here…for you. Scorpion. That's the name you go by now, isn't it? Naming yourself after the programme that trained you." He explained.

"And how do you know about that?" The other redhead smiled as the man placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm Nick Fury and this is Agent Romanoff."

"Natasha." The redhead began, "They call me…"

"Black Widow. I've heard of you." I finished, remembering her being mentioned when I was still at the Academy. "Who is they?" I questioned, crossing my arms over my chest.

"The same people who whisper your name in fear." She replied, and I couldn't help but smirk. She mirrored my actions causing me to return my expression to a more neutral state. "It's an odd feeling, isn't it? Power derived from the fear others feel when they talk about you."

"I suppose you would know, wouldn't you? The most famous graduate of the Red Room. The infamous Black Widow. Last I heard you were working for the KGB." She shrugged her shoulders slightly and glanced sideways at Fury.

"Things change. We must all adapt, they taught us both that lesson. Besides, I was the most famous graduate of the Red Room…until you came along." She was smiling, this game of verbal tennis was causing her amusement and I could only admit that it did the same for me. I shook my head, a smile spread across my lips.

"I didn't graduate. I never went through the ceremony." Natasha's expression changed to one of sombre.

"Yes, well count yourself lucky for that one. But I've been to Belarus, seen for myself the carnage you left behind, all the other girls…" her words trailed off leaving me with a memory I hadn't entertained for years. I hadn't given anyone who had died that night a second thought, instead choosing to keep my mind occupied on those who still lived and posed a threat to me. But I found my mind wandering back to my actions that claimed the lives of the other prisoners of the Red Room, each one of them innocents that had become entangled in a web of underground espionage. I didn't mourn their loss of life, but I couldn't help wondering if they'd of changed their lives for the better, had I given them the opportunity to live.

"What do you want with me?" I asked. Fury stood and began to approach me and I found myself shifting my weight onto my back foot.

"I want to give you an opportunity. The same opportunity I offered Agent Romanoff a year ago."

"And what would that be?"

"An opportunity at a new life, in America." I snorted against my will and for the first time in our meeting I let my real emotions show.

"I've been promised that before and I think the fact that we're stood here means it didn't work out."

"I know. We've been keeping tabs on you for a while now. Elena Marakova, born in 1984 in St Petersburg. You're an enemy of the Soviet State for destroying their most elusive covert operations programme and you're an enemy of the new Russian Federation because you keep outing prominent Soviet politicians." He paused as he reached into an inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a photograph. "Like Mr. Volkova." I glanced at the charred remains of the body, still in the front seat of his car.

"You have no way of proving that was me."

"No, I don't, and I'm not here to incriminate you anyway. But we both know you did it and to be totally honest it was impressive. Very few can mask a murder in a car fire and yet you managed to do just that with no questions having been asked. Few seventeen-year-olds can put that on their college applications." He smirked to his own little joke before continuing; "We can offer you protection, the Soviet Government doesn't exist anymore, at least as far as they tell the West. They're no threat to you. The Kremlin cannot afford to pay you attention for risk of indirectly admitting that the Black Widow and Scorpion programmes even existed. As for my government, the U.S doesn't even know you exist, yet. But people are talking, and the word is spreading – they may not know who you are yet…but they will. Eventually."

"That sounds very much like a threat, Mr. Fury." I paused, waiting for a response I didn't receive and bit down on the inside of my lip. I was feeling all my viable options of laying low, slipping away. "So, I should simply take you at your word?"

"No." Natasha said bluntly. "But you could take me on mine." She folded her hands in front of her and I inhaled deeply. "Only we genuinely know what the Red Room was like. We both suffered the same horrors that no child should ever had to endure. But we did, we survived and we're both here. Our ledgers are both soaked in red but mine's beginning to clean…"

"And you want to see the same in me?" I interjected. "How thoughtful of you." I inhaled a shaky breath, laced with anger; "You're right, we have suffered horrors and have been forced to learn the same lessons. Which is why I know they taught us both to lie like it's normal language, to lure targets into false senses of security and to manipulate others to benefit ourselves. I don't take anyone on their word, I certainly wouldn't take me on mine so why on earth should I take you on yours?"

Natasha shrugged and smiled again.

"I guess you shouldn't." she turned to Fury and shrugged again as he stepped forward. I held up a hand and he paused.

"I'm sure that whatever you're about to say has been very well rehearsed and thought out. But I'm not interested. I'm quite content with my life…"

"You live in cash-rented apartments that are barely suitable for human dwelling. How can that be enough?"

"You have read my file. You probably created it…" He nodded in agreement. "You know what my prospects were if I had of stayed in Belarus. I never would have graduated – HYDRA would have killed me first."

"So those were your only two options? HYDRA or this? I'm offering you a third and I think that your parents would want you to at least consider it." I froze, and my gaze turned into a steely glare. This strange man I had never met before had the bare audacity to use my parents against me like he had known them or even had the tiniest idea about the kind of people they were. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, a voice ushered for me to keep calm and not reveal my true emotions, to remember my lessons;

 _Emotions equal attachments. Attachments make you weak._

"How dare you." I snarled before I realised I was doing it. "You don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about. You didn't know them. You don't get to act like you know what they would have wanted for me."

"You're right." He responded without a moment's hesitation, like he knew exactly how I would respond. "I didn't know them, but I knew of them. Of course, I did. I had to, to figure out who the elusive Scorpion was."

"Elena." Natasha interrupted.

"Don't call me that." I demanded through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. My hands were clenched into fists at my sides and I could feel my supressed emotions beginning to spiral out of control.

"Nikolai and Alyona Marakova." She continued, ignoring me. "They are buried as US Citizens in New York. As far as the government know, with both their daughters."

"Both?" I whispered.

"Their contribution to the Cold War wasn't forgotten." Fury continued for her. "They weren't celebrities by any means, but your Father helped our government and he hasn't been forgotten."

"They would have wanted you to survive, and you did but you don't just have to survive anymore, you can live." Natasha's offer almost tasted sweet in my mouth, the thought of living a life free from looking over my shoulder. I hadn't thought about my parents for years but the more I dwelled on Natasha and Fury's words the more they made sense. Living alone and in seclusion since my childhood had meant I never questioned living any other way when I got older. Seclusion was exactly what the Red Room had intended for me, but if Natasha had got out and changed her life, why couldn't I do the same?

Both of their faces were neutral with only a hint of expectation when I finally opened my mouth to speak.

"I'll think about it." Fury nodded. "My plane leaves tonight. If you change your mind – you come find us."

I shrugged my bag further onto my shoulder and swiftly left the room, letting the heavy door bang behind me. The echo masked the choked sob I couldn't hold in any longer as I stepped out into the snow and icy air. Warm tears rolled down my cheeks as I slipped into a side alley, fighting to keep myself calm as my breathing became erratic and I began to feel as though I was choking. I fell to the floor and curled my hands into fists as I gripped clumps of snow in my palms. I couldn't pinpoint what it was that was making me have such an intense emotional response and it was rather unsettling, but I found there was little I could do to stop it.

Eventually, my breathing began to slow, and my pulse returned to normal. My cheeks were wet from tears and flushed from increased blood flow as I slumped back against the wall of the alley way and inhaled an icy breath, enjoying the constricting feeling it induced in my lungs. The sun had begun to set over St. Petersburg and it cast Saint Basil's cathedral into an almost calming silhouette. As I examined the burning orange hues of the fading daylight, I found that I had made up my mind about what I was going to do without giving any real thought at all. I opened my bag and changed out of Eva Markov's blue suit and into my own black cat suit. I removed the blade from the lining in my bag and concealed it on my suit before I got to my feet and left the alley.

I stuffed my hands into the pockets of the coat I'd retrieved from my apartment. I'd stolen it a few years ago from a target's wardrobe and it was one of the few nice things I owned, that and it was able to conceal the guns in my holsters very well.

I watched the house across the road, darkness had set in and the lights were on in the kitchen window where a small family were preparing their dinner. It looked identical to how it had thirteen years ago. A new family lived in my old home, I'd watched them a few times before, hidden in plain sight in the bus stop opposite them. There were two children, two girls, their mother and their father. They also had a cat, a heavily coated blue one that meowed every time it saw me, though they paid it no attention. They would cook their dinner at the same time every night and eat it together, I could never hear what they were saying but they spoke with so much animation I knew that they weren't a family for keeping secrets. I imagined they would discuss what they had done that day and there would never be a night where secrets and totalitarian governments meant they couldn't be a family.

I checked my watch as the last bus of the night came to a stop, dropped off to elderly women who nodded politely at me, and drove away again. It was time to go, a chapter on my life was closing and I was anxious about what the words on the following page would be. I found a sensation of nerves rise in my chest, something I hadn't experienced for years and it was strangely uplifting. I felt my eyes well up as I got to my feet, but I brushed away the tears before they had chance to fall. I spared one last glance at my old home, the last place I can remember being happy before smiling fondly and walking away.

The jet was sat waiting on a private runway, not a registered airport, but then I hadn't expected it to be. As I approached the metal gate, a uniformed guard stepped forward and held up a hand, demanding to see proof of ID.

"She's with me." A voice said behind me and I turned to see Mr. Vasiliev, still in his black suit smiling genuinely at me. I had to admit the man was very good at silently sneaking up on people and I imagined his job had components to it put those particular skills to good use. He guided me through security and we began to walk up the tarmac towards the plane.

"You changed your mind." He stated simply.

"You changed your accent." I retorted, having noticed how the Russian inflection in his voice had vanished, to be replaced by a basic American one.

"You're not the only one who's good at being other people."

"So, you're not Mr. Vasiliev?" I questioned as the rumble of the jet's engines made me raise my voice.

"No. Agent Coulson, Phil. I work with Fury." He smiled again and shook my hand as we climbed the steps to the jet.

Nick Fury was sat with Natasha as the plane door was sealed shut behind me. There was something so incredibly final about the hissing sound the hydraulics made as the door sealed shut.

"Miss Marakova." He said as he clapped his hands together. "You changed your mind." He said it like he knew I would and that it had just taken me time to figure it out for myself. I shrugged my shoulders and tilted my head to one side.

"I got the impression that your offer was the only offer, there was no turning it down."

"You are correct. You haven't caught our attention for being the most well behaved. The order to recruit you came from above me, but you've chosen the right option so there's no need for us to dwell on it, is there?"

I found myself shaking my head in agreement whilst already questioning the integrity of the people Nick Fury worked for. My thoughts were quickly diverted when Natasha stood and guided me to a seat on my own at the back of the plane. Agent Coulson sat with Fury whilst Natasha and I gazed out of the window as the plane taxied down the runway and took off.

"I know how you're feeling." She muttered quietly enough so the other two occupants of the plane couldn't hear. I arched an eyebrow and continued to stare out of the window at the pinprick street lights below.

"I know you don't believe me. I wouldn't have either, a year ago." She got to her feet and for the first time since meeting her I examined her face. It was suddenly clear how young she was, I wouldn't have guessed there was more than three years between our ages.

"I don't trust anyone. Don't take it personally" I muttered in response, she chuckled lightly and turned to sit elsewhere.

"I won't and don't worry, I don't either." I couldn't help but smile as I sunk my hands deeper into the pockets of my coat and drew my knees up to my chest. The sound of the jet engines was soothing and as much as I tried to, I couldn't fend off sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Monte Carlo. 2012.

I stroked the rich fabric that covered my skin in a soothing fashion. I enjoyed the feel of it as it fell through my fingers like water in a stream. The dress was a deep navy that almost looked black under the dim lights. It was scattered with crystals that made it look as though I was draped in the night sky. I had spent the past hour sipping on the same vodka martini and gazing up at the expansive ceiling of the Casino de Monte Carlo. Great crystal chandeliers gave off light enough for the gamblers to see their cards at the blackjack tables and their chips at the roulette wheel. They also allowed me to keep my trained eyes on the man I was trailing.

Frederick Dubois was dressed similarly to every other man in the room. A well-tailored black suit and a matching bow tie with a glass of port in his hand – he was undeniably handsome. His dark hair was neatly combed backwards, and his facial hair was neatly oiled – he exuded wealth and I had learned long ago that wealthy people tended to not question how other wealthy people obtain their fortunes. I knew better than that and had learnt to question absolutely everything. Two blondes had been trailing after him like obedient dogs all evening, waiting silently whilst he played his games and fetching him fresh drinks whenever he clicked his fingers. I arched an eyebrow as one of the girls approached the bar for the third time, her dress had looked expensive from a distance but upon closer inspection, it was clear it had been cheaply made. There were unfinished hems and sequins that hung loosely from threads, the red lipstick that had been applied to make her lips look bigger was beginning to smudge and wear off and the low back of her dress exposed her spine, jutting out through her skin. Her complexion was pale with a sickish green tinge that no amount of bronzer could conceal. It was obvious that Dubois was trying to make her look healthier than she actually was, most likely to another potential buyer. The girl stared at her splayed hands on the oak bar top whilst she waited for the drink and nodded silently when it was handed to her, rushing back to her owner who was making his way to the private poker room. I quickly got up from my seat and followed, slipping around the other gamers and waiting as he handed his ID to the two security guards on the door. They laughed at something he said but I couldn't make it out over the sound of the slot machines in the next room and people laughing as they cashed in their winnings.

I dipped my hand into the small clutch bag I was carrying and removed the false ID before offering it to the Security Guard. Eliana Maddux was the first different identity I'd used in twelve years. It had felt comforting being me for so long, but I had found it equally exciting when I'd been offered the chance to yet again become someone else. I was waved through the velvet rope and picked up the skirt of my dress as I stepped down the carpeted stairs into the quiet room with a large poker table in the middle. I smiled slightly to myself as I felt his attention turn to me and I made my way to the bar where I flicked my hair over my shoulder. Before I'd had a chance to order he was at my side and ordering a drink on my behalf. I grimaced internally at the fruity cocktail I was handed but put a smile on my face and sipped it as he watched my face closely.

"I haven't seen you around here before." His previous glasses of port were beginning to slur his words and a single bead of sweat sat in his hairline.

"I'm not from here," I replied simply. He opened his mouth to ask more questions, but I cut him off before he could try and uncover any information about me.

"Where are _you_ from?" I asked quickly, taking an innocent sip on the sugary cocktail in front of me. He smirked slightly before sighing.

"Avignon." I nodded and arched my eyebrows as he let his eyes wash over the dress I was wearing. The gesture may have made anyone else feel uncomfortable, even more so if they knew the kind of man he was, but I was numb to it.

"What about you?" It was my turn to smirk as I tilted my head to one side, exposing a delicate diamond earring that brushed my jawline. I saw his eyes flit to the jewel and then to my mouth before he met my eyes again.

"I live just ten minutes away." I purred, he smiled and arched an eyebrow.

"I would love to see your apartment."

"Would you?" I slipped off the bar stool and glanced over my shoulder as he remained leaned against the surface, watching me. I sighed and gave him my best bedroom eyes.

"Come on then." He rubbed his hand over his finely groomed beard before I turned my head and heard him follow. He willingly abandoned the girls accompanying him and I felt them watch us as we left the casino, but I did my best to pay them no attention. My orders had been clear, I was here for them, but was not to interact with them in anyway.

This is always my favourite part. The shift of power. Just when they think it's all in their control, I snatch it away so quickly. It's a thrill that others might find on a rollercoaster or from driving a car too fast – I find it pressing guns into the flesh of my targets and watching them shake like a deer in headlights.

"You must be stupid or arrogant. Do you know who I am?" He snarled at me, exuding confidence despite the gun in my hand.

"It's definitely arrogant. And to answer your question, Frederick Dubois. Born in Avignon, France like you told me no less than twenty minutes ago. You had a pretty normal childhood despite the beatings your mother subjected you to. But you got even with her for that, didn't you? Masqueraded as the perfect son in the last of her years, visiting her every day for a daily cup of tea, laced with undetectable amounts of Arsenic. Supposedly it's a very feminine method of murder, poisoning your victims. But your past is of little interest to me. Your latest business venture is why I'm here."

"You'll have to be more specific dear, I have so many you see…" He smirked at me, the sweat on his hairline was dripping down his face and onto the collar of his shirt.

"The girls." I cut in. "Like the two you have trailing around after you inside. Your hate for your mother over spilled to all women, something tells me your mother made money from you so now you do it with them. I have no doubts you planned to do the same with me, but you really should be more careful with your potential victims. Where are they from? The U.S? The U.K? Avignon? How old are they? Your blonde one doesn't look much older than sixteen, but then she's so underfed she could be any age."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about and I have very good lawyers who will see that whatever you're accusing me of never makes it to court." I laughed, letting the cold night air fill my lungs and cool my flushed cheeks.

"What part of me holding a gun to your head has led you to believe that I want to see you in prison? I know how many connections you have, and I believe you wouldn't ever be found guilty in a court room. Luckily for me, my employer doesn't normally condone this course of action, but we can't convict you and we can't let you go."

"So…we're at an impasse then?" he questioned, stress finally beginning to show on his face. I smirked.

"No. I always do my job. This is only going to end one way, it just depends on how much you fight it. But you won't win – you don't get to walk away from this. We all make choices on how we let our past define us, you made the wrong choice."

I adjusted my grip on the handle, briefly tuning my attention to the street of passing people just over the brick wall we were hidden behind. The rushing water of the river to the side of us was splattering droplets of water against my bare arms.

"I have powerful friends, they will notice I'm gone and they'll come looking." I shrugged my shoulders.

"I'm sure they will and if they ever find me I'll be sure to share this same hospitality with them. Though I hate to admit it, we do share one trait in common."

"Oh?"

"No remorse." He ran his hand through his hair and bit down on his lower lip, his eyes darting to the brick wall and back to me as if he was searching for words that would get me to change my pre-decided course of action. I flicked my eyebrows up as if I was waiting for him to offer a plea for his life that I might genuinely consider.

"Do you think killing me will save those girls? There's always another buyer."

"I'm giving them a chance, what they do with it is up to them…" I was cut off by a phone ringing in his jacket. He glanced down at the pocket and back up at me. I nodded allowing him to answer it. After a few seconds, his eyebrows furrowed, and he held out his hand.

"It's for you." I held it to my ear and remained silent.

"Agent Marakova." I heard Nick Fury's voice.

"Yes."

"We need you in New York, wrap it up and get on the next flight out. There's a jet waiting for you at the airport. Coulson's contacted Romanoff and she's bringing in the big guy. It's time." He ended the call without another word and I sighed whilst feeling adrenalin rise in my system.

"Sorry," I apologised mockingly "My schedule has gotten a little tighter than I expected. As much as I've enjoyed talking to you, we need to wrap this up."

His chest began to heave heavily as panic finally set in. I dropped his phone onto the phone and pierced the screen with my Louis Vuitton. I once again shook my curls over my shoulders and pulled the trigger. The silencer on the barrel of the gun made a small sound that wouldn't be heard by any of the passers-by and his body slumped to the ground, the small bead of blood falling from the wound in his forehead. I had chosen this location carefully, there was no street CCTV and the river was tidal, it would wash his body out to sea where it would be devoured by the wildlife. There was CCTV in the casino, but I'd always made sure to keep my head down and out of direct view of the cameras though I doubt anyone would be looking for him.

I picked the sim card out of his phone and bent it in two, breaking the small metal plate before I tossed it into the river alongside him.

I slipped back onto the streets of Monte Carlo entirely undetected and quickly called for a cab. As the driver headed back to my hotel where I would once again don a new identity, I found my mind wandering to the call from Fury. He never sounded stressed but the tightness to his voice led me to believe that something must have happened in New York whilst I'd been gone. Especially if he was going ahead with the initiative despite the blatant 'no go' from the board of directors.

I closed the hotel door behind me and slipped out of my dress, dropping it into a bin bag with all the other clothes I had worn during my stay. I put it into the suitcase I'd flown into the country with and slipped my own possessions into my small black bag. I pulled out the new passport and shrugged my black coat over my shoulders, my hair was pulled up into a ponytail and I left the room with my suitcase in tow. It was passed on to another undercover SHIELD Agent who would keep up the charade that Eliana Maddux had not gone anywhere when Dubois was missing. She had been in the hotel bar wearing an identical dress and multiple witnesses would corroborate her story.

I wandered into the hotel car park and located the sleek black Maserati I'd been left to drive myself to the airport.

The streets of Monte Carlo were the same as when I'd arrived. No one was aware of the events that had unfolded earlier in the night and as I passed the doors of the casino I saw the two girls who had been accompanying Dubois waiting on the side of the road, their thin arms around each other as their eyes searched for him. I ignored them as I drove past, but I couldn't help hoping they'd do something with the opportunity I'd indirectly offered them.


	10. Chapter 10

Undisclosed Location. 2012.

The chopper landed with a gentle thud on the deck of the helicarrier and the pilots immediately began to go through their shut down protocol as two groundsmen rushed over and fastened the wheels down onto the makeshift landing area. I pulled open the side door and was immediately grateful for my thick coat that flapped in the crosswinds of the other jets that were both coming and going from the flight deck. The familiar face of Maria Hill greeted me as I crossed the tarmac and joined her side. She had a small cut on her forehead that was beginning to heal and I assumed it was from the events that led to be being called away from assignment so early.

"How was Monte Carlo?" she questioned as we both watched the grounds crew scurrying around. I felt the corner of my mouth turn up.

"I got the job done. As always." Maria nodded in silent agreement. My attention was diverted as another jet landed and I saw Natasha appear from inside the helicarrier and approach it's occupant as he stepped out into the light. The face of Steve Rogers was instantly noticeable, the excitement at finding him in the ice just over two weeks ago had been so widespread, the departmental e-mail had even reached me in Vietnam. I couldn't help but notice the face of Bruce Banner who was wringing his hands together with nerves as he watched the people moving about around him. None of them paid him any attention but his ailment, so to speak, was common knowledge. I didn't feel particularly comfortable with him being on board, but Fury knew what he was doing and he clearly needed Banner for something, as long as it was just Banner and not the other guy.

"What happened then?" I asked Maria, diverting my attention from the nervous nuclear physicist. "Fury was brief as ever on the phone."

"The tesseract's been stolen. Clint and Dr. Selvig have been compromised. We lost the research unit and we still don't know how many died…" We both stepped inside as the helicarrier rose out of the water and began its ascent into the sky.

"Who took it?" Maria handed me a tablet with security footage on loop and I watched as the events unfolded.

"The portal jumping…I assume he's not from around here?" Maria laughed slightly as we stepped onto the bridge where Fury stood at the helm and we were soon joined by Natasha, Steve, and Banner.

"No. He calls himself Loki. Asgardian we think." I arched an eyebrow as I flicked through the case files on the tablet and came across the other individuals who were going to be involved in the Avengers Initiative. Natasha and Clint's familiar faces, Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers and Natasha's most recent assignment, Tony Stark. I felt Natasha stand at my side as Steve wandered about staring at the advanced technology that he'd had little time to get used to, clearly in awe.

"How are you doing?" I asked her, and she nodded before I'd even finished the question. I'd known what the answer would be, and I knew it was a lie. Clint had saved her life and given her a way out similarly to the way she had me.

"We'll get him back, Nat." She looked at me briefly and forced a smile.

"I know." She left my side and her façade was perfectly intact as she knelt in front of a monitor with Clint's ID Photograph and facial recognition software running. I returned the tablet to Maria as I absorbed the extent of the situation. This was going to be my first real test since joining SHIELD. It hadn't been easy from the start, the U.S Government had been reluctant to accept me for multiple reasons, though the most commonly mentioned one seemed to simply be that I was Russian and so Natasha and I found a way to combat that. We both took citizenship exams authorized by SHIELD and are now officially U.S. Citizens. I did still have to go before the Supreme Court and confess my crimes, including the murder of Senator Warren. His secretary, however, they didn't question me on, so I felt no need to bring it up. My past crimes are no longer a secret, my name is accessible to the world and I have had to mould myself to fit into it.

Even after all that, I never expected to be recruited into the Avengers Initiative. Despite Fury approaching me about it, the board made no qualms about voicing their concerns, but this was the prime opportunity to prove myself. Despite not wanting to in the beginning, I had changed in the way they had wanted me to.

"Leyna." Natasha hissed as I was pulled from my thoughts. I quickly returned my attention to the people in the room as Fury turned to Rogers;

"You're up." We watched carefully as Steve nodded and followed an agent to his quarters. Fury spoke to the both of us without turning away from his screens that had found Loki at a high society dinner in Germany. Where Loki was, Clint and Dr. Selvig were almost also guaranteed to be.

"You two pilot, he may need the backup." Natasha nodded and we both dressed in our combat attire. It had been a long time since I'd donned my black cat suit that now had the SHIELD emblem in place of my own Scorpion one. It was the one thing about it I hadn't taken to when I'd had no choice but to accept SHIELD's offer, I'd sacrificed my own individual identity. I wasn't Scorpion anymore, I was Agent Marakova. My old codename was only used when referring to my past. Even after twelve years it still didn't sit well with me, but I had foolishly put myself in a corner by acting so recklessly after I'd escaped from Belarus and this was to be both my saving grace and punishment. Once you were on SHIELD's radar, you never left it, whether you worked for them or not.

As I zipped up the front of my suit and slid my two Smith & Wesson's into their holsters on my hip and thigh – I heard a knock at the door of my own private room.

"Yes?" I questioned as the door opened and Agent Jasper Sitwell handed me a manila folder.

"Director Fury wanted me to make sure you had the accurate coordinates before you take off."

"Thank you." I nodded as I flicked through the unnecessary sheets of paper and ripped off the corner of the paper with the required information. When I handed the file back to Sitwell I couldn't help but notice he was smirking slightly.

"Kind of funny, isn't it?" He questioned rhetorically.

"Funny?"

"Well, Loki's plan is to rule the world and he goes to a country with a history of trying to do the very same thing." I arched an eyebrow.

"If you look back far enough, nearly every nation at some point or another has had a leader than wanted to rule the world. Many others got closer to it than, Hitler. Besides, Loki plans to rule a world of corpses, Sitwell. That includes yours."

"And yours." He replied, goading me. I had never liked Jasper Sitwell, there was something about him that just didn't sit right with me but I'd never paid him enough attention to figure out what it was. I nodded in agreement as I walked around him and to the door.

"Which is why I am doing something about it. Go back to your computer Jasper. Stick with what you know, and I'll do the same."


	11. Chapter 11

Germany. 2012.

The lights of the grand building came into view before the large crowd of people cowering in the car park in front of Loki did. I switched the long-range speakers, so we could hear what he was saying as we lowered our altitude and began to hover above, the air from the jets attracting some of the crowd's attention, however most of them kept their terrified stares on Loki.

"Fly or shoot?" Natasha asked as I flicked the switch to lower the landing gear, there was no clear space to do so, but we had our orders from Fury. As soon as civilian life was no longer under threat, retrieve the target and bring him back to base.

"I think I'll fly." I said simply, not taking my eyes away from the figure on the ground who was now manoeuvring between the crowd.

"Handing over flight controls to you then, I'll take the gun."

"Roger that." I smirked as I felt my controls vibrate to life, the jet wobbled slightly before I tightened my grip and it levelled out. I glanced out of the window as Loki raised his staff and had it aimed at an old man who had defied his orders and got to his feet.

"Where the hell is he?" I asked rhetorically, we had flown Steve here, but he had jumped from the jet a few moments ago and I couldn't pick out the stars and striped from the crowd. "We can't have civilian deaths on our hands."

Just as I spoke a beam of energy erupted from the end of the staff Loki was holding but before it could strike the man it had been aimed for, Steve dropped down in front of him with his shield raised. The energy ricocheted off the Vibranium shield and back to the god, knocking him to the floor. Natasha and I watched with baited breath as Steve approached him.

"He's doing well for his first run." Natasha commented. I nodded in agreement.

"I guess he's doing what he does best. Fighting for a good cause. Even if he has been out of the job for over half a century." We smiled to each other before I noticed a flash of blue heading straight for us, pulling my controls stiffly to the left, I quickly manoeuvred us out of the path of the energy beam.

People began to scatter as a fight between Steve and Loki ensued.

"I can't get a fix on the scope. He keeps moving too much." Natasha commented as she tried to aim the large gun hanging from the belly of the jet.

"Civilians are still too close, we don't want debris to hit any of them." I pushed down on the control to lower the jet further to the ground, but the power of the engines made it harder to control and hold steady. I opened my mouth to comment further before I heard music beginning to fade into my headphones.

"What is that?"

" _Hello Agent Romanoff, did you miss me?"_

I glanced to Natasha as a smile spread across her lips and AC/DC became louder. The PR system in the jet took on a life of its own as I looked out of my side window and saw the beam of light and jet-stream that followed Tony Stark as he flew in from behind a high-rise and shot down Loki who finally held his hands up in defeat. His horned helmet vanished along his with long cloak and he instead donned the attire of a relatively normal man. Natasha and I shared a smirk and a side glance as I finally landed the jet on the plaza.

Natasha went straight out and retrieved the staff as Steve guided a now handcuffed Loki onto the jet. I quickly jumped from my seat to check no damage had been caused from the energy beam as the Tony's face was revealed under the Iron Man mask. He didn't waste any time with polite formalities, but I had read Nat's initial assessment of him, so I knew exactly what to expect.

"Does Fury just recruit red-head ex-assassins? Is that his type? Is that the job requirement when you join SHIELD?" I rolled my eyes and ignored the comments as I pulled my weight up onto the wing.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Stark."

"Of course, it is. I'm always pleasurable to interact with." He retorted without a moment's hesitation.

"Mm. Agent Romanoff said you'd say something along those lines."

"What else did she say?" he smirked up at me and I arched an eyebrow before nodding to myself, content that no damage had been caused by the near hit. I jumped down and made my way back into the jet.

"Don't worry. She told me the exact truth." I smirked as I glanced at Loki who was being strapped onto the bench. Natasha was securing his staff in a metal case that she sealed with a fingerprint padlock as I sat back down and began the take-off protocol once again.

"Romanoff, I can't believe you never introduced me to, Miss…Mrs?" He prompted.

"Agent. Marakova." Tony nodded and offered his hand which I politely shook. I was nothing if not entirely pleasant to most people I came across, it helped avoid suspicion. Steve was smiling slightly as he watched the interaction.

"What?" I questioned as Tony turned his attention to the staff and Natasha took her seat.

"Nothing. You just reminded me of someone then, that's all." He smiled genuinely, and I couldn't help but offer a small smile in return before sitting next to Natasha and closing the loading doors at the back of the jet and we took off again.

My eyebrows furrowed as I examined the weather map in front of me. Seconds ago, the skies had been clear dark cloud was scattered amongst the darkness in front of us but within moments an entire storm system had appeared out of nowhere.

"Nat..." I began before a bolt of lightning shot through the sky in front of us shortly before a weight dropped onto the top of the jet, causing an alarm to sound and the aircraft to veer off to one side due to the apparent additional weight.

"What the hell?" I questioned as autopilot failed and I assumed manual control whilst Natasha began to flick various switches and increasing bolts of lightning began to flash around us. I heard the familiar metal clunking of Tony's suit as he walked to the back of the jet. He flicked the loading door opened and I grimaced as the freezing air filled the cabin.

Decompression signals began to beep as Tony and Steve stood bickering in the back of the head snapped back as the back of the jet once again dropped briefly and I saw a man stood with a large hammer in hand. He wasted no time in striking Tony with it, yanking Loki up from his chair and jumping out the back of the jet.

"More Asgardians?" Natasha called over the sound of the wind. I silently cursed as Steve and Tony began to have a petty dispute over the best course of action before Tony made the decision for himself and jumped from the jet. Natasha turned to speak to Steve as I radioed through to Fury.

"We've lost Loki."

"What?!" I heard the strain on his voice before he went quiet and spoke again; "How did you lose him?"

"He was stolen, another Asgardian, we think. He literally jumped into the back of the jet and jumped back out with Loki. Stark's gone after them now…and so has Rogers."

"Fine. You two just get back here." I cast a glance to Natasha as I pulled back on the throttle of the jet.

"Should we help them?" Natasha asked slowly. I chewed my lip and a small shiver went over my skin as a final gust of cold wind washed over me.

"No. Two gods, a super soldier and a heated Iron Man suit? They'll be fine." I pressed forward on the throttle and the jet flew back to helicarrier.

My back was to the glass of Bruce's lab as Loki was marched past, several guards both in front and behind him. He looked up briefly from his feet to smile through the windows of the lab towards the anxious scientist who was watching Natasha unlock the case containing the alien staff. Loki didn't look at me, in fact he acted as though I wasn't even there. All his attention was trained on Bruce until he went out of sight. I glanced at the weary physicist as he took of his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Are you…okay?" I questioned cautiously. Even though I was never going to have been the one to retrieve him for this mission, I had made sure to read up on the history of the Hulk and it was not a happy one. A troubled past was something I was all too familiar with, but despite it, Bruce Banner was a charming and overly kind person. The same thing couldn't be said of me. I cleared my throat and offered a distraction to the work he was slaving over.

"Come on. Fury wants to debrief on the bridge."

I made sure I was always a few steps ahead of him until I took my seat next to Natasha and she pushed the tablet over towards me. Loki was safely in his cage and contained. But he hadn't lost his arrogance at all, in fact, he looked directly into the camera's as he conversed with Fury clearly knowing we were all watching. It was like a performance to him and he was very comfortable in the spotlight. I found my hand wandering to the small chain around my neck, a tiny red star adorned my necklace and it was the only thing I had left of my mother. Fury had gifted it to me when I'd completed my first mission as a SHIELD agent and even though I'd had to vow to leave that life behind when I'd signed on, it was a comfort and a reminder of the country that made me the person I was today. I leaned over to Natasha as I spotted the God who had dented the top of our jet stood with concern etched on his face.

"Thor. Loki's brother. Prince of Asgard." She muttered quickly. I nodded in understanding and turned my attention back to the tablet only to have the image vanish moments later. I found my mind wandering as general discussion took over the table on how to best handle Loki. Maria silently stepped climbed the steps and joined us as Tony and Agent Coulson also joined the group. Natasha turned to me and muttered under her breath;

"U menya yest' ideya o tom, kak dobrat'sya do Loki"

"Da?" I replied, hoping no one else could hear us. Conversing in Russian was a small thing we had to ourselves, the continuation of our native language and it worked well for covert phone calls or just when we needed to make new recruits squirm if they got a little too big for their boots.

"Come on." We both rose from the table and slipped away.

"So, what's your plan?" I asked her as we headed away from the bridge and into a more secluded area of the helicarrier.

"Weakness. Loki's main goal is to be a step above the rest and right now he thinks that we think we're above him. I'll go to him, ask for his help and he won't be able to resist. Who can resist the helpless little girl?" she smirked, and I couldn't help but return her gesture.

"No one I've ever met, hence why they're all dead. And we play the helpless little girl so well." She nodded in agreement as we both switched our earpieces onto private frequencies.

"That we do."

There was nothing wrong with what Natasha and I were doing but if it was to fail, it was better that we would be the only two to know. I switched on the monitor to a private feed as Natasha silently invaded the room that held Loki. I listened in to their conversation as I made sure to stay out of sight in the small observation room. Eventually, after Natasha's A* acting, Loki revealed his true intent.

"I'll let Fury know." I replied as Natasha headed a different direction up to the lab.

Just as I opened the door and slipped out I was met face to face with Steve who looked angrier than I'd ever seen him before. I glanced down at his hand and my eyebrows furrowed when I saw an old 1940's HYDRA weapon.

"Where did you get that?" I questioned, casually flicking my hair over the earpiece, concealing it from view.

"Secure storage. I don't think we've been properly introduced. I mean, you know who I am. Everyone does. But there's very little I genuinely know about SHIELD, including who you are."

"Elena. Agent Marakova to most." He held out his hand and shook mine with a firm grip. Had he not been so obviously angry, the situation might have been a little funny.

"Tell me, Elena. Why does SHIELD have an entire storage unit full of HYDRA weapons from the war?" I shrugged my shoulders and played it off as meaningless whilst wondering the exact same thing myself.

"HYDRA fell after the war and SHIELD was established soon after. Howard Stark was one of the founders and he took it upon himself to retrieve all HYDRA weapons and technology of any kind, so it couldn't fall into the wrong hands again. They can't destroy it because there is still residual tesseract energy in the weapons."

"They were used to kill people! Why would you want to keep them at all?"

"Concentration camps were used for the exact same reason and millions of people travel to them every year. Why? To learn from the mistakes of the past."

Turning on my heel I headed towards the bridge where I knew I would find Fury. Steve didn't follow, and I felt myself exhale a breath I didn't realise I'd been holding in. I hadn't entirely believed my own words but what I'd said was true enough.

I covered ground twice as fast as usual but was only met with Maria once I got to the bridge.

"Where's Fury?" I questioned. She turned from the monitor that was replaying back Natasha and Loki's conversation so without waiting for her answer I jogged up to the lab and was confronted with a room of arguing people when I got there.

"Leyna, tell them that SHIELD monitors all potential threats." Natasha said over the voices of Steve, Tony, Fury and Thor who all appeared to be bickering about different subjects.

"What and Captain America is on that list?" Bruce questioned.

"We all are." I agreed. "That's how they found me, anyone who could potentially be a threat or ally to SHIELD is constantly monitored. No, I don't agree with it but better the devil you know."

I went quiet as the argument centred on Tony and Steve and then back to Bruce. It was clear his temper was rising as he looked between each of us. My hand instinctively went to my gun as he took a step back to the table and reached behind him, taking hold of the sceptre and tightening his grip around it. The arguments in the room reduced to silence as all attention turned to him.

"Dr. Banner…" Fury began.

"Put down the sceptre." Steve finished. Bruce looked down at his own hand as if had worked of its own accord. Hesitantly he placed it back on the table as a beeping from his monitor sounded. As soon as he had reached it, an explosion ripped through the lab and we were all thrown in various directions. The heat from the fire was almost unbearable but I focused my attention in on my earpiece, hearing confirmation of an attack from outside the carrier. My attention peaked when Fury got to my name.

"Marakova. I want your eyes on Loki. He doesn't leave your sight. Coulson will be with you soon."

"Got it." I pulled myself to my feet and weaved through the other agents rushing about, making my way to the detention area.

 **Translation : "I have an idea on how to get through to Loki."**

 _ **Ok, so I know not a lot happened, but it's kind of setting up for the next chapter where many things will most certainly be happening. So, bear with it!**_

 _ **As always guys, if you like it, please continue to support me by leaving reviews, no matter how critical or if it's just to say you like it, they really all do mean so much!**_


	12. Chapter 12

Detention Section. 2012.

It was eerily quiet when I got to the detention floor with there being no sign of any disturbance having occurred on the ship at all. Loki was stood in the centre of the suspended cell with his back to me. On my way down, word had gone over my earpiece that the explosion to the ship had come from an arrow, Loki had obviously orchestrated the attack through Clint. I kept my hand on my weapon as I glared at the gods back. His head turned slightly to the side and I could see the edge of his trademark smirk.

"There really is no need for such precautions, Agent. As you can see I'm clearly unarmed." My head snapped around as I registered his voice was coming from behind me and my gun was out of its holster within seconds as I turned to face him stood to my left. A cocky grin was clear on his face as a terrifying roar was heard.

"It seems my plan has gone surprisingly well."

"Has it? Because you still have nowhere to go. It's a good party trick, I'll admit. But you'll have to wake up earlier…"

I was staring at the ceiling when I finally woke up, an intense wind was blowing around the room and Loki was gone. I felt the warmth of blood on my temple where he must have hit me and forced myself to my feet, activating my earpiece.

"Marakova! Where have you been?" Fury demanded.

"Oh, you know. I thought this was the perfect time to take a nap." I tentatively prodded the swollen area on my forehead and mentally chastised myself for being so lax and thus allowing Loki to get the better of me. My own arrogance had gotten me into similar problems before but usually it only impacted badly on me and no one else. I heard Tony snort with laughter through the earpiece and couldn't help but smile slightly. Until I glanced over my shoulder and saw Agent Coulson, slumped against the wall with a large weapon in his lap and blood soaking his shirt.

"Oh god. Fury, Coulson is down." I spoke on a secondary frequency, one that had been set up for Fury, Natasha, Clint and me. There was nothing but silence on the other end for a few moments until Fury finally spoke.

"I'm coming."

I knelt in front of Phil and removed the heavy gun from his lap, tore the sleeve of his suit jacket and pressed down on the wound as he winced in pain.

"I'm sorry," I said, and he choked out a small laugh.

"For what?"

"It's a flaw of mine," I confessed. "I like to have the last word, the best word, the only word. So much so that I can't see when there's three Loki's instead of one. He did the exact same goddam thing in Germany, I watched all four of him corner a crowd and I never even considered he might do it again. And now he's gone, and you're hurt." Coulson laughed lightly again.

"You know. When I first met you, I honestly thought I would have to kill you. That you would refuse SHIELD's offer and I would have to put a bullet in your head." I found myself smiling slightly before I noticed the bleeding getting heavier.

"I can't picture you killing anyone Phil. People say I'm intimidating and I suppose they're right. They say I have a good threatening voice and an intimidating glare. But you don't, you always sound so calm and honest. You're a good person." I took a breath as I heard footsteps approaching. "And by not putting a bullet in my head I think you helped make me a bit of a better person too." He smiled as Fury and two paramedics arrived and I backed away, Coulson's blood was warm on my hands and I found myself rubbing them together, almost trying to rub it off. Fury turned to me as the paramedics muttered amongst themselves.

"Go. Clean yourself up." I glanced at Coulson whose eyes were closing but did as I was ordered and began to head back to my room but before I could get there I heard Fury's voice over the earpiece.

"Coulson's down."

"The medical team is on its way to your location." Someone else replied.

"They're here." He paused for what felt like minutes. "They just called it." The words spun around my head like a ball on a roulette wheel. I hadn't changed, twelve years and I still brought death to those around me. Instead of it being at my own hand, I let my ego get in the way, allowing others to do it for me and now Coulson has died when I could have and should have done something about it.

I eventually found my way back to my small room and plunged my hands into a sink of scalding water, gripping them together and scratching away at the drying blood that had seeped into my skin. I couldn't cry, the ability had long ago been beaten out of me, but my throat was dry, and my tongue felt thick in my mouth. My phone suddenly buzzed on the side and once I'd dried my hands, I saw that Natasha had Clint and she was going to take him through detox. I exhaled deeply, it should have been a victory, but it felt small and almost insignificant now. We'd got one Agent back but lost another in the process. Nat would break the news to Clint thankfully, so I didn't need to be there, a welcome relief. I locked the door to my room, pulled the metal blind down and laid back on the uncomfortable bed as I felt a headache begin to encroach on my temples. Despite only arriving on the helicarrier yesterday, this had felt like it was dragging on for weeks. We had been hit hard, Thor and Banner were gone, Natasha was tied up with Clint. Tony and Steve were the only people Fury would be talking to – they were the only two worth talking to. The soldier who didn't really know any of us and the billionaire who didn't really want to. I needed to get my head straight and the darkness and silence helped to calm my frazzled nerves. My pulse was still going too fast for my liking and I couldn't breathe steadily, I felt like I'd been shot with electricity. Eventually, I managed to get myself back under control and the wave of calm that washed over me was a relief, despite it being laced with the worries and the guilt of ongoing events. I moved from my bed to the cool floor before laying down and resting my cheek on the metal, it was something I vaguely remembered my mother making me do when I felt sick or had a fever. Lay on the bathroom floor, it's always the coldest room in the house. I found my eyes dropping as sleep threatened to claim me.

Suddenly there was a knock at my door and I shot to my feet, yanking the blind back up and pulling the door open. Tony was stood outside.

"It's not over. We're taking him out." He began to walk away, and I found myself hurrying after him.

"How and where?" I questioned as we descended into the belly of the ship where Tony was storing his now-damaged suit.

"New York. Stark Tower. That's where his final showdown is going to be. Rogers has got Romanoff and Barton, meet them on deck and get ready for wheels up." I nodded and suddenly my logical head was back firmly on my shoulders and all thoughts of Coulson were gone. Before I made my way up to the flight deck I slipped back into my room and cleaned my face, tied my hair back into a long rope braid and ventured into a metal case that held a weapon I'd been anticipating a use for. If there was ever going to be a time, this was it. The metal grid fit into the gaps between my knuckles and connected to the button in the palm of my hand and when I clenched my hand into a fist a fine stream of scorpion venom filled the mechanism and would inject into any porous surface it came into contact with.

I removed my earpiece, so Fury couldn't contact me and changed it to a private frequency as I climbed into the jet that already contained Nat, Clint, and Steve.

"Good to have you back," I said to Clint as I retrieved extra magazines from the overhead locker and the loading door to the jet slowly closed.

"Good to be back." He replied solemnly, he didn't look at me, instead kept his attention focused on the take-off protocol and the setting up of his own quiver of arrows. I glanced across at Steve who was staring down at his shield with concern etched on his face.

"You okay?" I questioned cautiously as the jet took off and we sped towards New York. Our first and last conversation had not been the most civil but if we were going to have a solitary chance of beating Loki, there couldn't be barriers up between any of us.

"Yeah. You?" He asked in the same breath and it caught me off guard. Very few people I knew, bar Clint and Natasha would ask how you were feeling as if it were natural. In my line of work, no one was ever really OK. People who had normal upbringings and stable lives didn't become spies and kill people for a living.

"Yeah. Fine." I nodded before busying myself with making sure each of my weapons was in orderly condition. I filled each magazine with bullets and kept a mental note of how many rounds I had. I pulled a magazine holder from a shelf above my head and attached it to my belt. My blade was still sparkling clean, but I had a feeling it wouldn't last. My previously queasy stomach settled, and I sat back with my eyes closed, mentally preparing my own plan of attack for when we finally landed to face an army of unknown aliens. I liked to think I excelled at my line of work, but each of us in the jet silently agreed that not one of us had a clue what we were going to do once we touched down.

If we even got that far.


	13. Chapter 13

New York. 2012.

I gazed out of the window as we flew over the Hudson River and into the middle of the city that had been thrown into chaos. A huge wormhole had developed in the sky over Manhattan and aliens were falling through it like raindrops. Gripping onto the cargo net as I stared through the wind screen of the jet, I felt genuine fear for the first time in years. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. As we soared in between high rise buildings I heard Tony's voice come over the coms and rolled my eyes as he commented on our delay in arriving.

"You know Tony if you'd be so kind to share your suit's flight technology with SHIELD I'm sure we could have got here much faster," I commented, making sure the sarcasm was clear in my voice. It all felt like a very fast-paced game of cat and mouse, but I knew that once we landed it would cease to be any kind of fun. I had been trained on how to deal with threats of any kind – but not even The Red Room could prepare me for an alien invasion. My grip on the cargo net tightened as the jet twisted and turned at sharp angles to avoid enemy fire. We eventually slowed when we pulled parallel with Stark Tower to see Thor and Loki locked in an intense battle. The 'K' from Tony's beloved sign had already fallen hundreds of feet to the street below and as Clint maneuverer the jet to face the two gods a familiar beam of energy was directed at us and made a direct hit on the engine causing us to spiral out of control. Clint performed a crash landing in a small plaza and I was knocked clean off my feet by the full weight of Steve Rogers as we skidded to a halt amongst the bricks and rubble. Steve quickly got up and lifted me to my feet as if I weighed nothing at all, it was a sensation I found rather unnerving.

"Hey Clint, if we live through this…do you think I could get some tactical landing lessons from you because that, was just…I mean, wow." I sniggered as he glared at me whilst retrieving his bow and arrow. He and Natasha were the only two people I could really joke around with but even then, the two of them held a much deeper connection with each other than I ever would with either one of them.

"God, Leyna. You know I really think you're in the wrong field of work. Have you ever thought of being a stand-up comedian, because I'm in stitches." He retorted with a completely straight face.

"Enough, you two." Natasha scolded as Steve watched the interaction between us. I flicked the loading doors opened and without hesitation, the four of us ran out onto the streets that were reminiscent of a active combat zone.

'We've got to get back to the tower." Steve instructed as we ran in the general direction of the looming building. Terrified civilians ran screaming in the other direction, none of them even pausing to glance at us. As the four of us stared at the sky as another ungodly creature ascended through the wormhole, a scream, faint in my ear caught my attention and I had separated the group and was following it before I realized my feet were moving.

Eventually, I came across a car with a yellow cab laid across the bonnet and windscreen. The screaming was coming from inside and I found myself dreading finding an injured civilian. My bedside manner was poor, if not entirely non-existent and I couldn't be answering irrelevant questions whilst I was needed elsewhere. However, when I looked inside the car I was met with much worse than an injured civilian. Two adults were in the front seat, both dead, having been crushed by the cab and in the back seat, still screaming and crying in fear was a young toddler. She had a tiny fist clamped around a blanket and her throat was hoarse from her prolonged crying for help.

I found that I couldn't move initially, my mind had gone back in time more than twenty years and I saw myself, crying for my parents after seeing their bodies in our tiny New York apartment. In my mind, the entire battle behind ceased to exist as I reached into the car, unclipped the child and pulled her out, positioning her blanket over her head so she couldn't see the carnage around her. I slipped back into a partially concealed doorway and radioed through to Clint.

"I've got a civilian, where are you evacuating people from?"

"A wrecked bus under the bridge, point them in the direction." I was already heading to his location as I answered.

"It's a child. Both parents are dead, they were crushed by another car." I jumped over the side of the bridge and landed softly on the road beneath and came face to face with Clint grouping scared tourists and city locals together and pointing them in the direction of the police cordon Steve had instructed. He left them and approached me tentatively pulling the blanket away to expose the terrified face of the young child who now had her chubby fist wrapped around my necklace.

"Good God." Clint murmured as we walked over to the crowd of people. Before we needed to speak, a middle-aged woman stepped forward and held out her arms.

"I'm a foster mum. I can help." I exchanged a sceptical glance with Clint but we both knew neither of us had a better option and so I untangled the infant from my arms but she immediately began to cry again and her grip around my necklace only tightened. As a large explosion sounded from behind me and Clint ran in the direction of it with his bow and arrow armed, I quickly unclipped the chain without a second thought and handed the child to the woman and followed in Clint's footsteps.

We both pulled ourselves back up onto the bridge and immediately were surrounded by Chitauri soldiers. Nat and Steve were already firing on all cylinders and as soon as the aliens spotted me I was too. I slipped down into a fighting stance as one alien singled me out, clenching both my hands into tight fists I heard the mechanism on my hand begin to work but before I could use it the alien was struck by a fork of lightning and collapsed to the road, the acrid smell of its burning skin making my eyes water.

I rose back up onto my feet, Thor stood tall and we were all given a few precious moments to regroup and catch our breath. I found myself glancing over the edge of the bridge looking for the group of civilians but they had all ran for cover. Behind me, I could hear Steve talking but my attention was suddenly pulled to the sound of an engine. My eyebrows furrowed as I looked over my shoulder and saw Bruce weaving in and out of the carnage that surrounded us on an incredibly unstable looking bike. The engine eventually died and he cautiously approached us, scanning each of our faces trying to get a read on our expressions.

"Well, this is horrible." He commented to try and break the ice. I found myself nodding slightly in agreement. For all the things I'd been trained for in the Red Room, this was never covered. Never, had I thought I would fight beings from another world. I was supposed to be the scariest thing my targets would encounter, that way I could never be scared. But fear was simmering away inside of me and it was an unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation. Not only for an alien invasion but to the people behind me. Assassins worked alone, it was easier that way. If you worked with people, eventually you would start to feel for them, whether it be sympathy or apathy and I knew well enough that emotions form attachments and attachments make you weak.

I was pulled from my thoughts as Tony flew towards us with a massive alien in tow, snarling and roaring as it chased after him. Buildings fell as it collided with the corners and found myself hoping that there were no civilians inside. Bruce turned away from us and within moments he was once again transformed. One hit was all it took to slow the monster and a final shot from Tony sealed its fate. I quickly grappled over the edge of the bridge as the beast exploded and fell over the bridge railing, meters from where I hung. Chunks of metal armour combined with flesh fell onto the street and I heard the screeches of the other, smaller foot soldiers as I jumped back up over the edge of the bridge and re-joined everyone else. I quickly made sure my mechanism was still working and switched out a magazine in my weapon before our attention was once again pulled to the sky as two more of the creatures we had just killed, swam through the air and down into the skyline of New York.

Steve snapped into his role almost like it was a natural reflex, quickly explaining where he wanted everyone to be before turning to Natasha and me.

"We keep the fighting here, low to the ground and away from civilians." Natasha and I nodded in agreement as several soldiers began advancing towards us and Steve.

"Two and two?" She asked. I clenched my hands into fists and felt the venom swirl around the mechanism on my knuckles.

"Saving the last one for me?" Steve asked rhetorically as he adjusted the grip on his shield.

I chuckled as the alien soldiers raised their weapons and instantly all my attention was on them. I ran straight for the one with the largest gun and disarmed it with a swift snap on its arm. I ripped the weapon from its grip and it screeched in pain as it fumbled for its secondary weapon but I quickly attacked it with a kick to the chest. It fell backward and went still as I spun on my heel and pulled my gun from its holster, quickly planting a bullet in the head of the other one. Throwing a casual glance at them both to make sure they were dead, my attention was distracted as I heard Natasha fire an alien weapon at one of them, sending it flying into the side of a car wreck. Steve tossed his own target aside as we took a few seconds to catch our breath.

"This means nothing if we can't close that portal," Natasha stated between breaths, gripping tightly onto the staff of the Chitauri weapon.

"You'll need a ride," Steve stated as more soldiers dropped onto the road and began to advance towards us. Natasha stood to her feet properly and tossed me the weapon.

"I've got a ride. My turn to fly." She smirked as I examined the foreign gun.

"I'll shoot." I raised the gun to my shoulder as Steve threw Natasha upwards into the path of a Chitauri cruiser within seconds of her being gone Steve and I were surrounded once again.

"I count fifteen." He stated. "How many can you take?" I smiled behind his back.

"You know, Captain. I find it easier to count them once they're dead. Easier to know how many you've killed than have to accept that some might have gotten away." I once again took hold of both my firearms and fired simultaneously.

"One, two…" I began as I ran into the group that was headed my way. As I fought with them I heard Steve shouting back numbers.

"…three, four." As one bent low, trying to aim for my abdomen, I hoisted myself up onto its shoulders and dragged my knife across its throat.

"Five." I jumped down as it collapsed onto the ground, I heard the jets from Tony's suit as he landed and shot a beam at Steve's shield, the Vibranium deflecting the energy onto the surrounding soldiers before he took off again.

"I believe that's six through eleven taken care of." I could hear the sass in his voice and I smirked before I was quickly taken off my feet, I squirmed as a Chitauri soldier kept its foot on my back, one rat at me from the left but I quickly pulled the trigger of my gun that I had kept a firm grip on. The other soldier briefly shifted its weight and I used the opportunity to spin round onto my back as it leaned down to within inches of my face. The stink of its breath brought tears to my eyes as I snarled and reached for my knife before plunging it into the beast's chest and ripped it downwards. It's grip on me instantly faltered as it staggered backward, clutching at the uncontrollable wound. I rolled out from underneath it and curled my hand into a fist, intent on breaking its neck with a punch to the back of the head. Crouched low to the ground, I waited for it to turn away, coherent thought had long since left its head. As the space between its helmet and body armour came into view I forced myself onto the balls of my feet, pressed the button in the palm of my hand and plunged my fist into the flesh of its neck. It instantly froze and I stepped away before it exploded into a puddle of dissolving flesh that almost brought on a bought of vomiting.

"twelve and thirteen." I choked out as Steve's voice overlapped mine.

"fourteen…fifteen." He finished. There were a few seconds of silence as I stared down at the remains of the alien and then examined my mechanism. The venom it contained was obtained from the Deathstalker Scorpion and in normal animals and humans, it mainly caused paralysis. Sometimes death was also an unfortunate side effect but anyone who needed to be subdued with my venom would have ended up that way regardless.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Steve asked as he looked over my shoulder at the smouldering puddle on the road. I shrugged casually as I turned my back on it.

"It's surprising. But effective none the less, and minimal effort is required so it's a win, win for me." He nodded as we heard Clint's voice come over the coms.

"A bank on 42nd. They've cornered a lot of civilians." Steve nodded before turning to me.

"You got this?" He questioned as more soldiers crawled up over the edge of the bridge. I smirked and cracked my knuckles.

"Yeah, I'm good. You go."

I emptied both magazines form my guns before I was within reaching distance of the soldiers. They'd been brought down to a manageable number by the time I was in hand to hand combat. They were clumsy at best and I was able to easily slip in between their flailing limbs to slice through arteries and disarm them all. By the time I was back on my feet, loose strands of hair were sticking to my face, my mouth was dry and I was surrounded by dead aliens. I wiped my knife against the leg of my suit and slipped it back into its holder.

A sudden explosion from the bank Steve had run in to caught my attention but my concern was settled once I saw he was still on his feet. I jumped over the edge of the bridge, scooped up a Chitauri gun from the road and ran in his direction, ignoring the police and military personnel who were escorting the hostages out of the burning building.

I was once again engaged in combat by the time I reached Steve and the exhaustion was beginning to show. I couldn't stop my mind from wandering to where my body hurt the most, I was covered in mild burns, small cuts, and bruises, but my main concern was the pain in my chest every time I tried to breathe in too deeply. As I pressed a hand over my heart, feeling for any pain I spotted a soldier running towards me in the window of a car. I instinctively ducked as Thor landed next to it and struck it with his hammer. I got back to my feet, sighed and then winced in pain.

"Thanks." He nodded politely as he pulled Steve to his feet, the exhaustion was clear on his face as well. I looked up to the wormhole and saw yet more aliens flying through and down above the city. I heard another alien screech as it ran towards me and I suddenly found myself overcome with rage. I curled my hands into a fist once again and aimed a punch directly at its jaw. I pressed the button in my palm and as my hand made contact it exploded the same as the other had. I was instantly covered in chunks of dead alien and was on my knees fighting back the waves of nausea as Natasha's voice rang in my earpiece.

"Guys. I can close it."

"Do it," Steve answered instantly.

"No." Tony interrupted. "We've got a nuke coming in…and I know the perfect place to put it." Thor and I exchanged looks as Tony flew past us overhead, heading straight for Stark Tower. At the last second, he angled upwards and vanished into the sky. Seconds stretched into minutes as we waited for him to come back through. Suddenly the aliens surrounding us collapsed and the lights that had adorned their armour faded. At the same time, another of the huge monsters that swam through the sky stopped as if it had hit a wall and flipped over itself, crashing into the top of an apartment building. My gaze was pulled away from the falling invaders as the beam from the top of Stark tower vanished and the wormhole began to close. At the last moment, Tony fell through and began to fall towards us.

"He's not flying, his suits not on," I said as panic set in, Thor began to spin his hammer before Hulk managed to catch Tony and the pair fell onto the road in front of us. Thor, Steve and I rushed to the lifeless suit as an aura of calm settled over us. Steve pulled off the face mask and rested a hand on his chest. The normal light was gone and after a few moments, grief was emanating from both Thor and Steve. I heard myself sigh, though I wasn't sure what emotion it was attached to if any at all. Suddenly Hulk roared and Tony was awake again.

"What the hell. What happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me." He paused for a moment. "What is that smell?" Steve, Thor, and Hulk looked at me.

"Elena," Steve said with a smirk. I pouted as I spotted Hulk wander to a fire hydrant. He raised a fist with a smirk of his own.

"Don't you dar…" I was cut off as a powerful stream of water hit me and took me off my feet. I gave up resisting and laid on the road as the freezing water washed me clean. By the time the pressure had subsided Natasha and Clint were back with us, both laughing at me as I got to my feet.

"I want to laugh, but I gotta say. The whole wet cat suit look, it's working for me." Tony said and I couldn't help but smile as incoming sirens were heard a few blocks away.

"Come on," Natasha said, draping an arm over my shoulder. "Stark wants Shawarma."

"What?" I questioned as we all began to wearily follow Tony, who ironically appeared to have the most energy.

"I don't know what it is. But given that I saw space about five minutes ago, I wanna try new things and Shawarma is top of that list right now."

I was too tired to argue and at the mention of food, my stomach growled in anticipation.

I tugged at the wet fabric that clung to my skin. The Shawarma was delicious but no one had said it, everyone just chewed silently on their own food. Not one word was shared between any of us, Bruce was draped under a blanket that the owner had found under the counter, it didn't look particularly clean but he had been grateful for it none the less. My jaw felt heavy as I fought back another yawn. Never, had I wanted to see the inside of my tiny room on that helicarrier as much as I did then.

 _The next day._

New York is a fascinating city. It's ability to bounce back after extreme attacks threatening its freedom and liberty. It did it in 2001 after their first terror attack and it was doing it again now. The drive from Stark Tower to this inconspicuous bridge in Central park had been a brief one, and yet so much had still happened. I had driven alone, in a sleek Audi, the only one not to have been ruined in Tony's garage and along the way, I had seen the city come together. People were painting murals on the remains of destroyed buildings. Tony's face and Steve's shield were everywhere, the symbols of our group and what we had done but the one that caught my attention the most was a little girl with bright red hair, her face dusted with freckles. She was wearing all black, when she ran into a group of boys playing, one who had his face painted green, they were quick to let her join in with their game.

Everyone else was already on the bridge when I got there. Loki was in a mask to prevent him from speaking and Thor held the Tesseract in hand.

"Nice of you to grace us with your presence." Tony quipped sarcastically as we encircled the two Gods.

"You're taking it?" I questioned Thor.

"It's for the best. The Tesseract holds too much power for mankind. Some God's can't even control it." I nodded in agreement as Loki rolled his eyes but remained silent. We each stood back as Thor and Loki were dissolved in blue light and pulled towards the sky, leaving us facing one another. Tony broke the silence as he clapped his hands together.

"Ready, Doc? I've got a lot of wreckage and rebuilding to get done." Bruce nodded as Natasha retrieved his bag out of the back of a marked SHIELD car. He and Tony got into a burgundy convertible and were the first two to leave with Natasha and Clint following behind in their own car.

"What will you do now?" Steve asked as I opened the door to my own car. I shrugged my shoulders and I leaned on the roof.

"I don't know, try and find an apartment I guess. Not here though, too many people know my face. That's never good for someone like me." I smirked.

"The whole world knows our faces now, Elena. There's no hiding in the shadows anymore." He approached his motorcycle before turning back to me. "What do you mean someone like you? You're a hero, Elena. There's nothing else to it." He started his motorcycle and had pulled away before I could argue his point but as I started the engine to my own car, I found that I didn't really want to. Was I really content to accept the new label being an Avenger had given me? It seemed that I didn't really have a choice.

As I left New York, I still wasn't sure where I was going but I felt a sense of calm that I hadn't recognized for years. I had spent years outrunning SHIELD to only go and work for them, and the trust had never been truly concrete, it still wasn't now, but if anything was for certain it was that our planet is being noticed and we're the only ones who can keep it safe.

I pulled onto the highway and set the GPS for Washington D.C.

After all, there was always going to be another mission.


	14. Chapter 14

Washington D.C. 2014.

I laughed as Steve sipped the coffee I'd brought him and then proceeded to grimace heavily before reluctantly swallowing. He pushed the mug away and chose to drink the glass of water on our table instead.

"That. Is disgusting. What on earth is it?" he questioned as I rolled my eyes at his statement.

"First, it's not disgusting. It's the best hot caffeinated drink money can buy. Secondly a Caramel Macchiato will kick the ass off any coffee from the forties."

"Coffee in the forties was great. Just coffee and hot water, keeping it nice and simple." He retorted, smiling as I took my turn to grimace whilst sipping my own sweet drink.

"It's like looking into the black abyss, contained in a cup." Steve laughed again, attracting looks from a few women in running gear and perfectly intact makeup who were sat drinking flat whites across the café from us. My phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket and after looking at the screen, I gulped down the rest of my drink before rising from my chair.

"I've got to go."

"Do we have an assignment?" Steve questioned, fumbling for his own phone, furrowing his eyebrows when he saw the blank screen. I shook my head as I stuffed my own back into my jacket pocket and pulled out my car keys.

"No. It's personal stuff." Steve got to his feet and followed me out of the café.

"Personal?"

"Yeah, you know. Personal stuff that exists outside of work. SHIELD isn't my entire life, you know." Steve held his hands up in surrender as we waited for a couple of cars to pass us so we could cross the street.

"I think I'll go for a run." Steve commented as I headed to my car.

"Again? Steve, all you do is run. It's not good for a fella of your age." I smiled as I slid into my car and Steve tutted. He leant onto the roof, peering curiously into the interior, paying no attention at all to what he was looking at.

"There's this other guy. He's always there too. He's a good lap marker. I lapped him three times last week. Plus, I think he knows when I'm there. He always runs faster."

"Well, you are an excellent motivator." I said as I started the engine.

"Maybe he's scared of me?" Steve questioned. I smiled sympathetically.

"I doubt it. Who could ever fear a golden retriever running through the park?"

"What?" He questioned and I laughed at the confusion on his face before pulling away and joining the flow of traffic.

I didn't like leaving my car in such a shady end of town but my contact had been specific about where I was to meet him and he wasn't the type that you messed around. I pulled my coat up around my neck as I locked the Maserati and stuffed my keys into the pocket. The events in New York had resulted in me being more recognisable, something I wasn't used to. The last thing I needed was to be seen going into a Russian bar known to frequent the mafia and various other organised crime gangs.

Few people looked up as the door swung shut against the metal security door. They were each preoccupied with their own dodgy dealings. The barman slung a dirty rag over his shoulder as I approached and slipped him the small piece of paper I concealed in my pocket.

"Vniz." He gestured with his head, I nodded with thanks and stepped down into the basement of the bar. This time everyone looked up, four men were sat round a table playing poker. They each sported utterly unreadable expressions, though they scanned me from head to foot, I felt much more comfortable here than I had anywhere else in recent times.

"I ya ozhidal, chto eto russkuyu reletku." I smirked, the man at the head of the table got up.

"Do you gamble?" he asked, his thick accent unmistakeable.

"Only with my life." The men laughed and turned their attention back to the game as the man circled the table and escorted me away, to two old chairs kept in the shadows.

"Skorpion." He said simply.

"Yuri. It's been a long time." He smiled, wrapped me into a tight hug and dropped his weight into the chair, lighting a cigar. He was a tall man, but large as well. He wasn't physically agile but his brain was where the real secrets lied. He had taken me in as a teenager, fresh out of Belarus and trying to find my way in Russia. I'd taken a chance and explained my situation to him, luckily, he had been one of those from the inside who had helped to topple the Soviet regime and he was all too happy to help me exact my revenge. He had unintentionally and unexpectedly become the closest thing I had to a father figure and even when SHIELD had recruited me, we had kept in close contact. I examined the wooden box his cigars were kept in before sitting opposite him.

"Cuban?" I questioned, glancing at it.

"Of course," he smiled, "Dominicans are no fun." He inhaled deeply before his expression turned darker. "I didn't call you for a friendly catch up." He said quietly and I felt nerves begin to stir in the pit of my stomach.

"I didn't think you would have. So, what tragedy is about to befall me?" He inhaled again and got up, pouring two tumblers of richly coloured whisky. He handed me one and I threw it back quickly, Yuri wasn't the type to beat around the bush.

"He's back." I felt the whisky churn in my stomach.

"Are you sure?" Yuri nodded as he handed me another glass, which I took gratefully.

"My contacts in Siberia assured me. He's been spotted again, they trailed a private convoy to the eastern seaboard but lost sight at port. That's all we know."

"Is he hunting me?" I questioned quietly.

"I can't be sure. But I don't think it's a coincidence that it's only been two years since New York. Your face was all over news screens. If they hadn't found you before, they know where you are now." I nodded in understanding. I'd pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind that HYDRA would somehow find me after all these years. I'd been stupid and careless to think that I was safe working for SHIELD. Knowing that they were bringing their weapon with them, the soldier from my nightmares, made me even more nervous. For so long, I'd been at the top of my game. But I'd done my research on the mystery that was the Winter Soldier long ago, a fat manila folder in my apartment was stuffed with every bit of information I'd been able to find. Accredited with over a dozen assassinations in the past fifty years, and he'd been about my age now when I was still in Belarus. Yet each of the grainy, half-cocked images that came with the intelligence showed a man who appeared to defy the inevitable process of ageing. Most intelligence services denied he even existed, whether it was out of fear was unclear. I had never approached the subject with SHIELD, but Nat knew of him. She bore a scar from a wound he had inflicted whilst she'd been on assignment in Odessa, before we'd both joined SHIELD. Part of me had wondered if they'd gone after her thinking she was me but I'd kept that to myself. He was a ghost, that much was true, and when we had all lived in the shadows that would have been fine. But Steve had been right, I couldn't live there anymore. I pulled myself from my thoughts to meet the concerned face of Yuri.

"Thank you, Yuri." I whispered quietly, leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. The wheezing that accompanied each of his breaths made me unsettled.

"Are you okay?" I questioned. He nodded as he clutched my hand, disregarding my question.

"Be careful, malen'kiy." I smiled.

"I'm not eighteen anymore." He kept a firm grip on my hand, almost examining my face as if he was trying to remember every detail of it.

"To me you are. To me you are still that tiny malnourished girl I found shivering in the snow." I gave his hand an encouraging squeeze before I got to my feet and quickly left the bar.

My new apartment was small to say the least. The kitchen, dining room and living room where all one open – and yet still compact- space. The bathroom was narrow enough that I could touch both walls with each hand and my bedroom held the double bed I slept in and little else.

I slid the deadbolt across the doorframe as I dropped my bag at my feet. Yuri's words had been playing over in my head on the drive from the bar and back to my building. If the Winter Soldier really was in D.C then I was in trouble. I couldn't go underground anymore but I found myself pacing my apartment regardless. I needed to do _something._ Something not drastic enough that it might cause concern or suspicion but something that might give me the vital head start I would need when he would inevitably show up. I didn't need people looking to closely into my past. Not even Fury knew the whole backstory and I wanted it to stay that way.

It came to me as I splashed cold water in my face at the kitchen sink. Long strands of my hair stuck to the damp skin and I realised I had never really had it cut. Just the required trim every few months. I quickly rummaged in my draw for the sharpest knife I had and in one swift movement I'd wrapped my hair into a tight twist and sliced through it. I dropped the remnants in the sink and shook my head as the roughly cut strands fell to just under my jawline. I quickly went into the bathroom and examined my reflection. My features looked more pronounced, my jaw more prominent against my shorter hair. There would be no more occasions were my hair would get caught on the zip to my suit, or blow in front of my vision, the more I looked at it, the more I liked it. I knew that if it came down to it, I would have to fight the soldier from my nightmares, there was no other way around it. I had not been raised to run away from a fight.

I'd been weak as a child and he'd had the advantage over me but not anymore. When I get the chance, I'll kill him.

**Translations

"Down there."

"And I half expected it to be Russian Roulette." **


	15. Chapter 15

Washington, D.C. 2014

" _Again." I forced myself to my feet, the taste of metallic rich in my mouth as I scraped stray hair from my eyes. Before I'd had the chance to adjust my vision, I felt another strike, just below my ribs. It took me off my feet and I was once again face down in the mat, coughing blood and forcing my eyes shut, preventing tears falling. I never allowed them to see any signs of emotional weakness when my physical ones were so obvious._

" _Again." One voice says, a man's voice, a stranger and yet at the same time it's so familiar._

" _Enough." Another intervenes. But it doesn't stop, I continue to feel the blows of pain as my opponent continues to reduce my strength with every hit until I'm staring up at the ceiling. My breathing is shallow and ragged, every inhale is a struggle. Every exhale, makes me more tired as I fight the urge to close my eyes in the hope my unconscious state would make my opponent stop._

" _Finish it." The male voice says again, and I suddenly find a tiny shred of strength as his hands - one warm flesh and the other cold metal – wrap around my throat and begin to squeeze. I open to my mouth, but no sound comes out, the blood gurgling in the back of my throat preventing me from pleading for my life. My own hands wrap around his wrists, but I have nowhere near enough strength to fight him off. Eventually, as I feel my lungs and throat burning from oxygen starvation, I look down from the ceiling and into the icy blue eyes of the soldier._

I shot to my feet, kicking back my bed sheets and marching into the bathroom, forcing myself under a cold cascade of water. My hands trembled against the grimy tiles of the cubicle as sobs escaped me and I slid down to a heap on the floor. My vest top plastered to my icy cold skin as I put my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the noise I was making. It wasn't until I opened my eyes I realised it was dark outside.

My nightmares had returned with vigour since my meeting with Yuri and I had been unable to calm them. Nothing I did, no amount of exhaustion or intoxication prevented them from plaguing my sleep every night. No one at work had commented on my hair but I had seen Nat's face on more than one occasion, she knew something was going on and I wasn't going to be able to hide it for much longer. But the soldier hadn't made an appearance yet, at least, not one I was certain of. Every now and then I would hear half a Russian conversation and my throat would dry up. My own paranoia was preventing me from doing my job effectively, so much so that when Fury had asked me to assist Steve on a hostage retrieval mission in the Indian Ocean, I'd made an excuse and asked Nat to go instead.

Eventually I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, only to hear my phone ringing in my bedroom.

"Nat?"

"Fury's been shot. I'm on my way to the hospital, Steve's already there." She put the phone down without another word and I quickly got dressed. All personal feelings to Fury aside, my life would have most likely been very short had he not arrived in Moscow when he did. I also couldn't deny the fact that it couldn't possibly be a coincidence that this had happened now.

I scraped my wet hair up off my face and glanced at the gun sat on my bedside table. I quickly snatched it up into my grip and fastened it to the belt of yesterday's jeans that had been on my bedroom floor. I shrugged my leather jacket over the top, keeping the weapon out of sight and slipped out of my apartment.

By the time I arrived at the hospital, I could see Nat had already arrived. Having parked her Corvette in the '20 minutes drop off and pick up' zone, the vehicle had attracted some eye rolls and tuts of disapproval and I received the same response as I followed suit before running into the Main Entrance. It was easy to see where Fury was, with two armed security guards outside the door to the operating theatre.

"Nat…" I said as I pushed the door, spotting Steve and Maria next to her. No one looked at me, all keeping their eyes trained on the operating table in the opposite room. Agent Sitwell and a STRIKE officer were stood to the back of the room, neither of them saying much but keeping their eyes trained on the viewing glass.

"What's happening?" I questioned as I saw Fury, unconscious on the operating table.

"He had a metal arm." Steve said to no one in particular and I had to stop myself from holding onto the wall for support. Nat never looked away from Fury but I was staring at my own feet, trying to appear as calm as possible. Giving away absolutely nothing.

"Ballistics?" Natasha questioned lightly.

"No rifling." Maria responded simply.

"Soviet made." Nat confirmed and I heard myself exhale. Suddenly everything behind the glass switched up a gear as Fury flatlined, the surgeons rushed to bring the paddles, shocking him twice before declaring time of death. I watched Nat's face as Sitwell and the STRIKE officer left the room, quickly followed by Steve and a reluctant Maria leaving Nat and I alone.

"Soviet slugs." Nat said quietly, her lips quivering as tears welled in her eyes.

"Metal arm."

"It must be." She said, her reflection examining my face.

"Can't be anyone else." I confirmed my own fears, she furrowed her eyebrows briefly before turning on me.

"You don't seem very shocked."

"At what? Fury's death or the soldier being back?"

"The latter, but we'll get to the former."

"I knew. I mean I didn't _know_ but an informant, he had connections in Siberia and said there'd been movement. Said…there was a chance. But they lost their trail at the eastern seaboard."

"Why didn't you say anything?" she questioned, I shrugged my shoulders as I absently watched the surgeons cover Fury's face.

"Yes, you do. You do know. So, tell me, because now Fury is dead and we are the only two in this who have the slightest idea of the person who killed him."

I chewed my lip anxiously, but I knew Nat wouldn't give up, neither of us ever did. Defeat had been programmed out of us when we were children.

"I left the Red Room because HYDRA wanted me, they wanted me to work alongside the Winter Solider. But I'd seen him, seen in his head and there was nothing there. No memories, no personality…nothing human about him at all and I did not want that. We don't have much Nat, and I don't know about you but the few memories I have of my life before the Red Room are sometimes the only thing that keeps me going. But, sometimes… ever since New York, I feel like HYDRA know exactly where I am and what I'm doing and the fact that there's been nothing from him…nothing for twenty-three years. Then suddenly he's awake and heading straight for D.C. where I am and then he kills Fury…"

"You think you're being hunted." Despite my increasing anxiety I choked out a small laugh.

"No. I think this goes way beyond me, but I don't doubt that they will try and take me out too. What was SHIELD'S ultimatum? Join us or die. Why would HYDRA be any different?"

Natasha turned away from me as the surgeons finished removing their instruments from Fury and laying a clean white sheet over his body.

"Steve said Fury was at his apartment. The soldier shot him through the window." She mentioned quietly.

"Why was Fury there? How does the Soldier know where Steve lives?" Natasha shrugged in response before swiftly leaving the room. I sighed as I approached the glass and leant against the cool pane. All our personal information was kept on a private firewall protected database that only HR and certain clearances could access. How on earth had HYDRA got hold of that information without someone knowing? As I felt a headache encroaching on my temples the door to the viewing room opened and a STRIKE agent leaned in.

"Pierce wants us to escort you home." He spoke to both of us, but Natasha swiftly left the room, forcing the agent to step aside.

"I'm fine." I replied simply, not making any effort to move my feet.

"It's not a choice, Agent. It's our order." The Agent urged, and I found my temper flaring slightly and my curiosity peaking.

"You don't know where I live." He didn't falter for a second.

"Your car will be taken home for you, we will drive you. Pierce is concerned for the safety of his Agents, particularly those that Director Fury showed a…soft spot for, and we have been ordered to escort you home." I rolled my eyes.

"Secretary Pierce should probably be concerned about himself over us. I don't need to be babysat by any of you, STRIKE isn't exactly known for out smarting opponents. I'm perfectly able of looking after myself, thank you." I began to leave the room, but the agent stepped in front of me, fully blocking the doorway. I could feel the anger coming off of him in waves and it unsettled me but as soon as Rumlow stepped up behind him, he moved to the side and I was allowed to leave the room. I nodded silently to Maria and again to Steve as he waited for Natasha. Fury's death had shifted the mood between us and STRIKE, they seemed to be under an illusion that they suddenly held more power now and it made me suspicious.


	16. Chapter 16

**UPDATE**

I am coming back! I have not abandoned this story or you my followers. If anything the occasional notification that people are still reading it is one of the main reasons I'm not giving the story up. I have plot lines in my head already - I know where the story is going (as far as Infinity War at least) so bear with me!

I recently got a new full time job and by the time I've gotten home at 6.30, eaten dinner had a shower etc its nearly 9-10pm and I'm always too tired to write but I am making an effort!

I have not left you and Scorpion will continue! I just need the little kick of motivation to carry on and I think when I see Black Panther, that may happen then, if not it will definitely be after Infinity War.

Thank you for favouriting, following and reviewing the story it really means so much but carry on doing so and I promise, Elena will be back before too long!

-Izzie


	17. Chapter 17

**I told you I was coming back! I'm sorry I've kept you all waiting for so long but hopefully that's over now! Re-watching the MCU in the build-up to Infinity War has given me major motivation for writing so I hope you all like this chapter and if you do please, please leave your reviews, favourites and follows!**

Washington D.C. 2014.

I've grown used to surprises and unexpected twists in the day to day routine of life. However, despite Fury's death and STIRKE's new found cockiness I hadn't expected to receive a text warning at 10am the same morning informing me that Captain America was now wanted by SHIELD and was top of their list. Had it been anyone else, I would have believed it instantly, but as I shrugged my jacket over my shoulders, planning to head to the Triskellion myself, a million questions were racing through my head.

I stuffed my phone into my pocket and made a mental note to call Natasha as soon as I was in my car. My apartment building was empty, it mostly housed people who worked part time or lived off welfare checks so more often than not, the halls were empty, and the foyer was unmanned. That day was no different.

Until…

I stepped out into the street, heading for my Maserati that was parked in the shade on the other side of the road. Something peaked my attention and as I turned to my left, I felt bile rising in my throat. It was like being back in one of my nightmares as I saw the soldier striding down the path in broad daylight, as if no one else could see him. But he was looking right at me, heading for me. His face was concealed differently to how I remembered as a child, but I just knew it was him, there was no doubt.

I shot back into the foyer of my building, planning on using my knowledge of the building to my advantage. I was on the fourth stairwell floor when I heard the door on the ground floor fly open. I knew I shouldn't have stopped to look but all of my trained abilities were getting away from me and I was running purely on human instinct. I grasped the metal railing and peered over the edge my breath hitching when I saw him staring back up at me, a bullet pinged off the metal as he shot one round at me and began to chase me up the stairs. My phone suddenly began to ring in my pocket and I checked the ID before answering Natasha's call.

"He's here." I gasped.

"We're ten minutes away." She answered simply.

"We?"

"Steve and me. It's a long, story. We'll explain when we get there."

"If I'm still alive."

"You better be." I couldn't help but gasp a laugh as I cut the call off.

My apartment building was ten floors high before you could get out onto the roof, and I found myself counting down the floors trying to drown out the steps of the soldier behind me. When I got to my own floor I flew out into the hall and ran down to my apartment door, if I'd counted correctly then he was only two floors behind me and he would cover that ground in no time. I slipped inside my door and silently latched it, immediately opening the door that led out to another fire escape. I retrieved my weapon and clipped it to the top of my jeans and also grasped my grappling wire. It was made from reinforced steel and was definitely strong enough to strangle someone with, provided I was able to get close enough to the soldier to do so.

Suddenly there was a bang at my door, then a second. I pulled my gun from its holster and aimed it directly ahead of me, then I heard someone else's door open and a brief crack of gunshot. The silence that followed thereafter was deafening until another bang came at my door, I could hear the hinges giving way and I double checked that the safety was off as a final bang came and the door gave way. I instantly set off a round and turned my back to jump from the window onto the thin metal stairs. I heard the ping of metal on metal and winced when I felt the shift of weight on the stairwell as he began to pursue me once again. A few more bullets bounced on the metal surrounding me as I pulled my weight up the side of the building.

 _Three floors to go, two, one._

Relief flooded me as I reached the roof, the air was cooler and there were no civilians nearby who could get hurt. My breath was burning in my lungs as I faced the stairs and waited the few moments before he stepped up onto the gravel, not even breaking a sweat. I heard his boots crunch into the gravel and seeing him for more than a split second was a shock to the system. I suddenly felt like a cornered girl in Belarus once again.

"Eto bylo dolgo." I spoke between gasped breaths. Hoping for a response of any kind. He didn't reply but continued to step towards me with his rifle raised, the sight would be pointed directly at my forehead, a clean simple kill with minimal blood would be what he was looking for, especially if he was expected to bring my body back to whoever had ordered this assassination.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Again, no response. It was then that an idea suddenly struck my mind. I hadn't taken to homing in the skills Doctor Montgomery had forced out of me as a child. But it was like riding a bike, once you knew how to do it, it was simple and as I reached out, I was met with the same white noise as I had when I was a child. There was one difference, however, amongst the same seven words that I remembered, my face was now in with the mix. It was a recent photograph, a surveillance image that confirmed my paranoia that HYDRA had been following me all this time.

I quickly glanced over my shoulder and my stomach dropped when I saw the drop off the edge of the roof down to the side alley below. He took another step forward but before he could do anything else, I quickly released my hook and it shot towards him, wrapped around the barrel of the rifle and I yanked it from his grip. In the few seconds he spent looking down at it, I covered the ground between us, doubling up the rope in my hand. I pushed all of my weight against his chest knocking him backwards, I knelt into his shoulder joints, preventing even the metal arm from lifting and pressed the rope into his exposed throat and started counting. 1 minute, that's all needed to hold him down for before he would lose consciousness. I knew I had made myself the promise that I would kill him the next time I saw him, but Steve was in trouble, right now I just needed to get the hell away and figure out what was going on with the only two people I could consider as allies.

As I reached 45 seconds, I felt his muscles relax and I released the pressure momentarily. Admittedly, I surprised it had happened quicker than I'd anticipated. The one-minute mark had been a guess at best, but I knew the soldier had been enhanced through experimentation in the same way I had. I made to return to my feet when the soldier suddenly sat up, wrapped an arm around my waist and shifted his weight until I was pinned down onto the rooftop, his knee was now on my chest and it felt like a concrete block crushing my lungs. I couldn't see the eyes that haunted my nightmares in the past couple of days, only my reflection, struggling in the black goggles he was wearing. This time he didn't hesitate as he plunged a small blade into my abdomen. The pain was searing hot and took over all of my senses as I jut managed to fumble in my pocket for a small disc. I could feel blood pooling under me as I heard a horn sound from the alley ten floors down.

I pulled the disc in my palm upwards, and pressed it against the metal of the arm, causing a continuous stream of electricity that rendered the arm useless and would burn the flesh with pain. I forced myself to my feet, reached for my grappling hook, it untangled itself from the rifle and I swung it around a large metal pipe and without looking, I propelled down the side of the building, falling the last few feet as the soldier severed the wire from the roof.

I scrambled to my feet and yanked open the backdoor of the inconspicuous pickup truck Steve was driving, he had already sped away by the time I slammed the door.

"Are you okay?" Steve questioned. I glanced down at my side where my hand had been pressed. Blood was red on my palm, but the pressure was helping calm the bleeding slightly.

"Great. I don't suppose there are any towels in this car are there?" Natasha slipped her jacket off, unzipped her striped hoodie and handed it to me as I pressed it down onto my abdomen and shifted myself against the door, so it was kept firmly in place.

"Thanks. So, Steve. I hear you're a wanted man."

"SHIELD's been compromised. The STRIKE team is dirty and so are countless others. Fury told me not to trust anyone before he died, currently, I only trust the two of you."

"You know you're up shit street when you can only trust two assassins." Natasha joked. I couldn't help but smile as Steve pulled onto the freeway and we headed for New Jersey.


	18. Chapter 18

Camp Leigh, New Jersey. 2014.

It was dark when the truck finally stopped and the three of us got out, stretching stiff limbs and examining the location Natasha's phone had sent us to. My abdomen was still burning with pain, but the entire journey spent up here had been spent dissociating the way Montgomery had taught me to. That, and a hasty stop at a pharmacy meant Natasha had helped me temporarily stitch up the wound. I had explained to them both, mainly Steve about the soldier and what I knew, but it didn't seem to be much help at all. Steve was adamant that HYDRA had ended with the fall of Hitler's Third Reich and I'd been too exhausted to argue my point. It felt irrelevant at the moment anyway, our biggest priority was finding out what Fury had entrusted Steve with before he'd died.

"This is where the file came from according to the coordinates." Natasha said as we approached the locked gate. Steve looked at the sign as Natasha and I jumped the gate. After a couple of minutes, he dropped his shield over and followed.

We spent a while following the satellite on Natasha's phone, wandering amongst abandoned buildings and overgrown weeds. Metal stairs were rusted, and flagpoles didn't bear the nations stars and stripes the way it was intended.

"This is where I was trained." Steve said quietly as he stopped in front of one flagpole that seemed identical to all the others in the camp.

"Changed much?" Natasha questioned. But I didn't hear the answer as I kept my eyes trained on the dark undergrowth surrounding us, it was the perfect place for an ambush unit to hide and with my current injury, I was nowhere near my most effective should we be attacked.

"Leyna." I heard Steve's voice call over my own loud thoughts. He and Natasha had headed over to a bunker that Steve had determined was strictly out of place. One strike to the old rusted padlock, and it opened easily.

Stepping down into the depths of the concrete bunker, I began to feel uneasy. I would have liked to have put it to the knife wound but the steps I was taking felt all too familiar to Belarus and I had a terrible foreboding feeling that something bad was going to happen.

The bunker was revealed to be more of an office when Steve flicked on a light switch. On the far back wall was an older design, but the unmistakeable logo of SHIELD.

"Where SHIELD started." Steve commented as we slowly and silently walked amongst the desks. There was nothing out of place in the bunker, but it's general presence was very unnerving.

I followed Natasha and Steve into an adjoining room that housed a number of shelves and three portraits, Howard Stark, a military general and Peggy Carter. Natasha and I knew exactly who she was, despite having already retired when Natasha and I were recruited to SHIELD, she still used to frequent the offices in our early days. When Nat questioned Steve on her however, he simply stayed silent and walked away. We shared a glance and followed after him as he was examining an empty bookshelf.

"If you're already working in a secret office." He began as he pushed the shelf to one side, exposing a concealed doorway.

"Why do you need to hide the elevator?"

Natasha pulled her phone from her pocket and scanned the keypad, reminding me of when I had done the same thing at Senator Warren's house – exposing the oil left behind from fingerprints. We got in to the elevator and it travelled us even further underground to a room that stayed dark and eerie when the doors opened. Steve stepped out boldly first, Natasha and I following cautiously behind.

"There's not a lot that creeps me out these days. But this…definitely qualifies." I commented, shivering at the sound of the howling wind.

"It's just an empty room." Steve replied as the lagging electrics came on exposing a huge computer and banks of hard drives on either side.

"Weirdly, that doesn't make me feel better."

"This isn't it." Natasha stated. "This technology is ancient, it can't possibly have made that file." It was then that we both spotted the USB port on the desk, sleek in design it was years younger than the machines that surrounded it, causing only further unease to rise in my stomach. Nat stepped forward and inserted the hard drive. All of the machines instantly whirred to life and a small camera like device on top of one of the monitors began to move.

 _Initiate System?_ Appeared on the screen and Natasha stepped forward.

 _Yes._

The camera moved once more as a green and black blurry image came onto the screen.

 _Rogers, Steven. Born 1918. Romanoff, Natalia Alianovna. Born 1984. Marakova, Elena Nikolaievna. Born 1985._

"It must be some kind of recording." Natasha commented before the computer cut her off explaining that wasn't the case at all. Next to the large monitor came a black and white photograph of a small looking man, and round glasses and a displeased expression.

"Arnim Zola was a German scientist who worked for the red skull, he's been dead for years." Steve stated as he walked round the back of the machine.

The voice corrected Steve on its actual nationality before informing us;

 _You are standing in my brain._

"How did you get here?" Steve questioned.

"Operation Paperclip." Natasha said. "After World War II, SHIELD recruited German scientists with strategic value."

"HYDRA died with the Red Skull." Steve reiterated in the same way he had to the car journey here.

 _Cut off one head, two more shall take its place._

"Prove it." Steve goaded, and the machine started whirring as old newspaper clippings and grainy black and white footage filled the screens.

 _HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realise is that if you try and take that freedom, they resist. The war taught us much. Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. After the war, SHIELD was founded, and I was recruited. The new HYDRA grew. A beautiful parasite inside SHIELD. For_

 _70 years HYDRA has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war, and when history did not cooperate, history was changed._

"That's impossible, SHIELD would have stopped you." Natasha commented as I gripped on to the back of a dusty old chair and the machine continued.

 _Accidents will happen._ It brought up a newspaper clipping explaining how Howard and Maria Stark had died in a car accident and then a portrait of Fury with 'deceased' stamped over the front.

 _HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security. Once a purification process is complete, HYDRA's new world order will arise. We won Captain. Your death amounts to the same as your life. A zero sum._

In a display of sudden rage I hadn't seen in Steve before, he launched his fist into the screen, shattering the glass only for the image to appear in a smaller one to the left.

 _As I was saying…_

"What's on this drive?" Steve demanded.

 _Project Insight requires Insight. So, I wrote an algorithm._

"What kind of algorithm?"Natasha questioned.

 _The answer to your question is fascinating. Unfortunately, you three will be too dead to hear it._

Suddenly, the elevator doors we had travelled down in sealed themselves shut, Steve hesitated for a few seconds before throwing his shield and it bounced off the metal doors having done little damage. Panic began to set in as I watched the image on the screen move as if it was laughing.

"Guys, we've got a short range ballistic missile coming our way. Thirty seconds tops."

"Who fired it?" Steve questioned.

"SHIELD."

 _I admit I've been stalling Captain. Admit it. It's better this way. We are both of us, out of time._

Steve yanked a metal grate from the floor exposing a small hole just big enough for the three of us, Natasha and I slid into the space just as the missile struck the building and tonnes of debris began to collapse in on top of us. Steve's shield was held above the three of our heads, his arm around Nat's shoulders and her own steely grip on mine. I cried out in pain when my leg slipped out and a chunk of metal and stone fell onto my calf, I instantly felt the skin cut open just managed to pull my leg closer to me before a larger chunk of rock fell that would have crushed it completely.

The heat was searing when the rocks finally stopped falling. The first thing I noticed was how lax Nat's grip had gotten on my shoulder and as Steve pushed our way out into the light of the burning flames I saw she had lost consciousness.

"She's breathing. There's no blood on her head, she should be fine." I coughed between words as I wiped dust and dirt from my eyes. I forced myself to my feet and examined my leg, there was blood on my jeans but not enough that I really needed to worry. Steve handed me his shield as he picked up Natasha and we began to climb out of the rubble. But almost instantly we heard the sound of incoming jets engines.

"Run." He said simply, and we quickly turned away from the rubble and out into the darkness of the other buildings, concealing ourselves in the overgrown weeds. As STRIKE searched the rubble, presumably looking for our remains, we slipped amongst the shadows of the buildings until we reached the front gate where Steve got back into the truck and I sat with Natasha in the back. She was still unconscious as Steve pulled away without turning any lights on and I found myself stroking her hair in a soothing fashion. It brought back the slip up that Fury had revealed in Moscow, 2000. He'd said my parents had been buried with both their daughters, I'd almost had a sister, but fate had had other plans for me. Now though, it felt like I got one anyway, Natasha was the one person who knew me better than anyone, she knew what I'd been through and what it did to a person and I knew the same for her. We didn't spend time hanging out at bars or gossiping about boys, but the bond was there regardless.

"How is she?" Steve questioned.

"She'll be fine." I answered quietly and as we joined other cars on the roads, Steve switched on the headlights of the truck.

"Where do we go now?" I questioned.

"I don't know yet. I'll think of something. Try and get some sleep."

SHIELD had been my safe place for the past fourteen years and in one day that had all changed. As I looked out of the window, my head resting against the glass. I found Zola's words bouncing around my head. There was never a time SHIELD hadn't been at the mercy of HYDRA's influence. By the time I was recruited it had been well established in the mainframe, influencing ideas and eradicated enemies. I thought I'd done so well to escape HYDRA when I was a kid, but they had always, always been one step ahead and I'd fallen into their trap, doing their bidding for fourteen years without even realising it. Now, everything that I'd been taught about SHIELD felt even more sickening, HYDRA kept tabs on potential threats, not SHIELD. HYDRA recruited people of strategic value, not SHIELD. How many people had I killed believing I was doing the right thing? How many people were now dead for the wrong reasons because they were a threat to HYDRA's regime. They'd got exactly what they wanted, I was doing the same work as the Winter Soldier.

Exactly like they had always wanted.


	19. Chapter 19

Washington D.C. 2014.

It was morning by the time I was jolted awake by Steve stopping the truck. Natasha was awake and in the back seat next to me, though she looked distant like her mind was somewhere else.

My sleep had been plagued with uncomfortable dreams of promised lies and false truths and I found that the feeling didn't go away now that I was awake. Even as we approached the back door of the most inconspicuous looking house, I found myself on edge that our enemies would be waiting for us behind the door.

The expression of the man who answered was one of confusion. He agreed to let us in and quickly looked the door behind us.

"Clean up, you guys look like you need it." Natasha and Steve nodded as I turned to him.

"Actually, do you have suture kit?" He furrowed his eyebrows briefly before heading into his small kitchenette and retrieving a green box.

"Thanks…"

"Sam." He finished, holding out his hand.

"Elena." I shook it gratefully before taking a seat at his small table and rolling up the leg of my jeans, exposing a laceration on my calf that was about 3 inches in length.

"Two injuries in two days. You'll be dead before we can finish this." Natasha stated with a smirk.

"Remind me who was unconscious for four hours on the drive over here." I replied as I cleaned the wound with alcohol wipes before finding a small needle and thread.

"I'm going to assume you all work together." Sam suggested. Steve nodded almost sympathetically earning a raised eyebrow look from both Natasha and me. He held up his hands in defeat, asked where the bathroom was and headed off.

"I need to get myself a job at SHIELD." Sam said quietly.

"You really don't." Natasha quipped as she followed after Steve. I couldn't help but smirk as I threaded the suture needle and positioned my leg more comfortably.

"Don't you need to numb tha…" Sam was cut off as I began to stitch up my wound, and I couldn't help but smile at the shocked look on his face.

"Don't go squeamish, this is one of two that need stitching and I'm going to need your help with the other one."

"I don't think I've ever stitched up someone else's wounds within ten minutes of knowing them."

"There's a first time for everything, Sam."

I exhaled deeply as I swallowed the second glass of orange juice that Sam offered me alongside two codeine tablets.

"I don't stock morphine." He joked, I smiled simply.

"I don't need it. Paracetamol would have been fine. But thanks anyway."

"Paracetamol? For a stab wound?" He glanced at Steve and it quickly became clear it would take some time for Sam to get used to being around people so different from himself.

"So, the question is. Who at SHIELD could launch a domestic missile strike?" Natasha questioned as she dropped the top of a strawberry onto her plate.

"Pierce." Steve said simply.

"Who just so happens to be sitting at the top of the most secure building in the world…"

"But he's not working alone. Zola's algorithm was on the _Lumerian Star_."

"So was Jasper Sitwell." Natasha commented, and I rolled my eyes at the name. I'd never liked Sitwell and now it became clear why.

"So, the real question is how do, the three most wanted people in Washington kidnap a SHIELD officer in broad daylight?"

'The answer is, you don't." Sam said suddenly as he dropped a manila folder on the table with a photograph of him in military uniform on the front.

"Call it a resumé."

Natasha picked up the photograph and showed it to me before handing it to Steve.

"You never said he was pararescue."

"Sam." Steve began, "I can't ask you to do this. You got out for a good reason."

"Dude. Captain America needs my help, there's no better reason to get back in."

"Where can we get our hands on one of these things?" Steve gestured with the manila folder.

"The last one is at Fort Meade. Behind three guarded gates and a 12-inch steel wall." Steve glanced to Natasha and me as we shrugged and nodded.

"Easy enough." I stated as Steve dropped the folder on the table. I made sure to take note of the code; EXO-7 FALCON.


	20. Chapter 20

Fort Meade, Maryland. 2014.

The gate to Fort George G. Meade was like any other U.S Army Base. Armed officers lined the check in booth and controlled barriers let cars in and out. Sam was in the back of the truck tugging uncomfortably at his dress uniform.

"I'm starting to feel like this was a bad idea."

"Too late to back out now." Natasha commented as I examined the officers conversing between themselves. They looked young, most likely soldiers who were given gate duty as a punishment for back chatting or some other broken rule.

"What do I even say?" Sam questioned.

"Nothing." I stated turning from the passenger seat to face him. "They are so below you in terms of rank they aren't worth the time you'd spend speaking to them. Walk with purpose, you know exactly what you're here for and you are not going to leave without it." Sam nodded and we both exited the vehicle.

The yellow visitor pass was shining brightly on my chest as we marched through the gates and into the official territory of Fort Meade. My new short hair made it much easier for the blonde wig to stay in place, the green contacts were hidden behind the sunglasses they'd asked me to take off at the gate.

"Where did you learn how to lie like that?" Sam questioned as he headed for the secure unit the Falcon kit was being kept in.

"Soviet Russia." He laughed and then stopped when he saw the neutral expression on my face.

"Remind me how we are going to get it out of here without it being noticed?"

"Whilst you were panicking in the truck I was watching the gate. They conform to security protocols when letting people in, but when they're leaving, they don't even look inside the cars. They just flag them through – we are literally going to walk out of here with that thing strapped to you."

We approached the gate and Sam pressed his fake ID card (courtesy of Yuri) to the scanner. It beeped us through without a problem and we began to approach the second gate where an armed soldier was getting ready to meet us.

"Remember, you have every right to be here, on behalf of Senator Warren. You've been requested to inspect the Falcon kit."

"And you?"

"I'm his secretary, here to make sure everything runs smoothly."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief as the second soldier flagged us through. Suddenly my earpiece crackled to life and I heard Steve's voice on the other end.

"How are you guys doing? Sitwell has lunch in a couple of hours and we've got to be back in D.C by then."

"One second." I whispered as the third solider waved us through, not even stopping to look at me. Sam once again pressed his ID card to the door of the building and we were in. As the door sealed behind me I spoke up again.

"We're in. I might lose you for a couple of minutes, but we'll be back within ten."

"Got it."

I checked my watch as Sam began to undo his khaki jacket, it had deliberately been a size too big, the machinery we were stealing was compact but still bulky and we didn't want attention being drawn.

"What time is the shift change at security?"

"09.15 on the dot. It never changed."

"And how long does it take roughly?" I asked as I spotted the door that I would have only moments to break in to before the security cameras would spot us.

"2 minutes."

"So, 2 minutes to get in there, steal the kit, get it on you and get back out before anyone notices something is wrong."

"Shouldn't be a problem." Sam noted as I counted down the seconds. As soon as it hit 09.15 I ran towards the security look, pulled off the front and short wired it, the doors opened, and Sam slid in before they quickly sealed shut again.

"1 minute, 30 seconds." I called, keeping my head down from the cameras. I kept my eyes fixed on the watch as the seconds ticked by.

"45 seconds Sam. Hurry up." Seconds later there was a bang on the other side of the door, I once again short wired the system and Sam slipped out, quickly concealing the mechanical wings he was now wearing under his military jacket. I slipped the face of the security code back on the front and joined him at the front door just as our time ran out. Sam exhaled, and I couldn't help but smirk as we walked straight out of Fort Meade and got back into a different grey car that Natasha was driving.

"Where's Steve?" Sam questioned.

"Just down the street, it would look obvious if we arrived and left in the same car, we'll the truck and then this when we get to D.C. She pulled away from the curb and as I looked back at the gate to Fort Meade, no alarm seemed to have been raised.

"So, whose Sitwell's lunch with?" I asked, Natasha shrugged as I opened my laptop and began the process of hacking into his phone.

"Senator Stern." I stated, knowing I'd seen the name somewhere before.

"Isn't that the guy who tried to get Stark to hand over the Iron Man suit to the senate?" Natasha questioned.

"That would be the one." I remembered as I brought up a picture of his face. I found the coordinates of the hotel they were meeting at and put them into the machine just as Nat pulled over and Steve jumped in the back of the car.

"Where are we headed?" He questioned as Nat pulled onto the freeway, taking us back to D.C.

"To disturb Sitwell's lunch with Senator Stern. Occidental Grill."

"So, are we gonna do this?" Sam asked.

"Well, given that you're the only one of us who isn't actively being hunted by SHIELD, it's probably a good idea if you're the only one in the open until we have Sitwell secure." Natasha stated.

"He is going to be surrounded by a security detail." Steve noted.

"True. So, we get him to drop his guard, Sam pass me your phone." I asked and plugged it into my laptop for a few moments before handing it back to him.

"When you call him, he'll see the ID as being Pierce. He'll most likely send his detail to the car, that's how we'll get him alone."

"What's to stop him from running?" Sam asked.

"Sitwell may be an agent but he's arrogant, vain and fundamentally a coward. He's a fall guy. He's part of HYDRA most likely because it's easier that way, Sitwell lives by 'if you can't beat them, join them.' Besides I'll find a nearby rooftop to make sure he stays put."

"We don't have a rifle, Leyna."

"I don't need a rifle, I just need binoculars and a laser pointer."


	21. Chapter 21

Washington. D.C. 2014.

I waited by the side of the car as Steve and Nat forced Sitwell to the top of the building I had recently been on the roof of. Sam was strapping himself into the mechanical gear we'd stolen from Fort Meade and he was clearly getting a confidence boost from it.

"They're cool, right?"

"They're…wings."

"Yeah. Iron Man can fly but he doesn't have actual wings."

"Well, no. Wings need a lot of space, their influenced by wind and storms whereas the Iron Man suit's flight is more that of a space rocket, very controlled and protected from outside influences." There was a moment of silence as Sam adjusted the goggles over his eyes as a scream from above caught our attention.

"You just love to steal a dude's thunder, don't you?" I shrugged as the scream got louder, the closer Sitwell fell to the ground.

"I'm good at it." I smirked as he took off, catching the falling agent in mid-air and escorting back to the roof of the building. Natasha had taken a walkie talkie up with her, so I could still listen in whilst Sitwell coughed up all the information we needed.

"So that's why Fury delayed Project Insight." I said as Sam sped up the highway.

"When he got the drive, he knew there was something odd going on with Project Insight." Natasha said. Sitwell was sandwiched between the two of us in the back of the car.

"HYDRA doesn't like leaks." Sitwell commented.

"Then why don't you try sticking a cork in it." Sam retorted.

"Insight is launching in 16 hours. We are cutting it a bit close guys." Natasha mentioned as she leant forward, resting her chin on the back of Steve's seat.

"I know. We'll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helicarrier's directly."

"Are you crazy?" Sitwell questioned, pushing forward between Nat and I causing her to sit back and roll her eyes to me.

"That is a terrible, terrible idea."

Suddenly there was a loud thud on the top of the car and moments later the rear window was smashed, Sitwell was thrown out and into the path of traffic coming the other way. Within seconds Nat was climbing into the front of the car, pushing Sam and Steve out of the way as two more bullets came through the roof, Steve suddenly forced the car into park and it flung the soldier off the car and into the road. I wasted no time in getting out of the vehicle and making sure my gun was to hand. Cars continued to speed past, but it was an additional engine that caught my attention and I ran forward as I spotted the large Jeep racing towards us with no signs of stopping. It crashed into the back of the car and a motorcyclist quickly stopped.

"Are you guys ok?" The rider asked as he got off his bike. I quickly jumped on and followed after our car that was now being forced along the road by the truck. The soldier was back on the roof and I watched as he reached through the windscreen and ripped the steering wheel from Sam's grip before jumping back on to the bonnet of the Jeep. I opened fire and then quickly applied the brakes of the bike as the Jeep clipped the back wing of the car, sending it into the central reservation and rolling back into the road. Luckily, the three passengers were skidding along the road behind it as the Jeep sped past them. Steve quickly got to his feet along with Nat and I dropped the bike as the soldier was handed a grenade launcher that he fired straight in our direction. Steve shoved Natasha out of the way as he took the full force of the grenade against his shield, sending him over the edge of the bridge.

Natasha and I remained crouched behind the overturned car as the four men who had been in the Jeep began to open fire at us. We were quickly pushed back and separated as another grenade was fired at Natasha. One of the men's attention was diverted and I used the opportunity to fire some more rounds and jump over the edge of the bridge onto the upturned bus that had collided with another when Steve had fallen through the windscreen.

Seconds later, another car exploded, and Natasha was on the ground as well, running under the bridge but heading directly for the line of fire of the soldier. I fired a dummy round at her feet to get her to stop and kept myself concealed behind wreckage before I fired a shot at the soldier and genuinely surprised when it caused him to fall back and out of my line of vision. It didn't take long however for him to reappear without his goggles and the anger was clear as he sprayed a magazine of bullets in our general direction, luckily most civilians had been running since the bus crash and so there weren't many in the area, but I could hear people groaning from within the bus. Natasha ran out from the bridge and kept herself hidden behind another abandoned car as she continued to fire rounds at the soldier.

"Steve?" I called as I took the opportunity to run around the front of the bus. Injured civilians were lying inside, and I crawled in trying to get as many out as I could, but I was most concerned by the fact that Steve was also still down. I looked out of the windscreen briefly and saw three of the men from the Jeep scaling over the edge of the bridge and down to the road. I fired at one and he fell the rest of the way, dead when he hit the floor. One however, landed on top of a car with a huge automatic weapon, Steve's shield was on the road just outside of the bus and I just reached it and threw it to him as he got up and ran through the vehicle that was gradually being turned into a piece of Swiss cheese. I fired on the two other men who were now all focused-on Steve, one was hit by his own bullet ricocheting off Steve's shield and the other got a bullet to the neck from me. Steve gradually worked towards the one on the car and when he flipped him over, I fired a bullet into his head for good measure.

"Where's Nat?" Steve shouted.

I quickly got to my feet and scanned the street for her, a police car exploding as it collided with another car caught my attention and I headed that way. The soldier was marching straight for her. Civilians were scattering in front of him, but he paid them no attention. Natasha was where I had been two days ago, though that felt like a whole other lifetime. I tried to predict Natasha's moves but spotted her concealed behind a car as he approached a different one. She didn't spot me coming and jumped when I squatted down next to her.

"Steve?" she asked.

"He's fine. Sam's covering him."

Within seconds the car across the street from us had exploded and Nat had jumped the car, hoisting herself up on his shoulders and she kicked the grenade launcher from his hand. I ran around and quickly picked it from the ground as he threw her over the roof of an adjacent car. His attention was momentarily turned back to me and I realised it was the first time I had seen his eyes since I'd been a child. They were just as calculating and cold as they had been then and as he rose his arm to strike me, I found myself glued to the spot. I only snapped back to attention as Natasha threw a small metal disc to his arm, rendering it useless.

"Leyna!" She shouted, and I wasted no time in following after her as we ran in the opposite direction from where he was.

"I did that on the roof." I gasped as we headed towards civilians. "It makes him even angrier."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty pissed myself." She shouted back before quickly halting as a car window smashed. I skidded to a stop and looked down as she clutched her shoulder. Suddenly the soldier was on a car opposite us, I quickly pulled the trigger of the launcher, cursing when it simply made a popping sound without dispelling any ammunition as Steve suddenly appeared and the solider became preoccupied with fighting him.

I crouched down next to Natasha and tugged off her leather jacket examining the front and back of her shoulder.

"It's a through and through." I said as I applied as much pressure to the wound as I could whilst still listening to Steve and the solider fight.

"Leyna. The grenade launcher." She said between breaths. I looked down at it and spotted a round a few feet away. Quickly loading it up I got back to my feet and watched as Steve stood, no longer fighting the soldier but simply staring at him instead. The mask had fallen from his face, exposing someone who looked so much more confused than angry but that quickly passed as Sam came flying him, kicking him against an upturned car that I then fired the launcher to. By the time the settled burning vehicle settled back on the ground, the solider was gone and all we could hear was incoming sirens. We were quickly surrounded by five black SUV's and dozens of armed officers. I dropped the launcher and raised my hands only to have them yanked back down and confined to handcuffs. Steve, Sam, Nat and I were loaded into the back of a van and driven away from the scene.

"It was him." Steve said sombrely, his wrists shackled in thick steel handcuffs. "He looked right at me. Like he didn't even know me."

"How is that even possible? It was like, 70 years ago." Sam commented, Natasha and I shared a look, fearing we already knew the answer.

"Zola. Bucky's whole unit was captured in '43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and…"

"None of that's your fault Steve." Natasha said quietly, I couldn't help but notice the blood still dripping from her wound. Steve dropped his head.

"Even when I had nothing I had Bucky."

I found that there were no words of comfort I could offer Steve. I had tried to find the identity of the Winter Soldier for years, but never had I expected he would be someone from Steve's former life. I wanted to tell myself that it changed nothing, that I hadn't known who Bucky was so why should I care about the person he had been before I had met him? But I found that I did, even if it was only because he was the only piece of Steve's old life that he had left. It had been no secret that Steve had been struggling to adjust since New York and everything after. However, I couldn't shy away from the fact that who his friend was, and who he became are two totally different people.

I was pulled from my thoughts by Natasha resting her head against the wall of the truck.

"Hey." Sam turned to the armed guard who was sat with us. "We need a doctor. If we don't get pressure on that wound she's gonna bleed out here in the truck."

The guard held up an electrified stick to Sam before quickly pulling it back and stabbing it into the chest of their co-worker. They slumped to the floor before Maria Hill pulled off her helmet, examined each of our faces and turned back to Sam.

"Whose this guy?"


	22. Chapter 22

Undercover Location. 2014.

Maria opened the door to the workers entrance of an old dam that was no longer in use. I still couldn't recall the exact steps we had taken, following Maria, to get us here. But I knew that had we stayed in the back of that van, there was little to nothing we could have done to prevent us from now being dead.

Natasha was being supported by both Sam and Steve as we headed down the damp hall only to be greeted by a man with a stethoscope around his neck and a concerned expression on his face.

"GSW. She's lost at least a pint." Maria said as the doctor instantly began examining Natasha's wounds.

"Maybe two." Sam offered.

"Let me take her." The doctor said but Maria shook her head.

"She'll wanna see him first." I furrowed my eyebrows as Natasha cast a confused glance my way.

We followed Maria down the hall and into a large, mostly empty space that was only occupied by a cube of plastic sheeting. Maria approached it and pulled it to one side and I heard myself audibly gasp. Nick Fury lying still alive, barely, but breathing in his bed. He opened his eye and examined Nat, Steve and I closely.

"Well it's about damn time."

The doctor had Nat sat at the end of Fury's bed as he began work on her shoulder, pressing down harshly on the wound. Sam was indifferent to the man he didn't know but I kept close to Maria. Fury and I had never been particularly close, but it had been a shock when I'd heard of his death and I was even more shocked now.

"…lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver and one hell of a headache."

"Don't forget your collapsed lung." The doctor said without looking up from Natasha's shoulder.

"Let's not forget that. Otherwise I'm good."

"But they cut you open." Natasha said. "Your heart stopped."

"Tetrodotoxin B. It slows the pulse to one beat a minute, Banner developed it for stress. Didn't work so great for him but we found a use for it."

"Why all the secrecy?" Steve interjected suddenly. "Why not just tell us?"

"Any attempt on the director's life had to look successful." Maria explained.

"Can't kill you if you're already dead." Fury said. "Besides…" he looked between Steve and me. "I wasn't sure who to trust." I caught Natasha looking mildly uncomfortable, it was clear the statement had hurt her slightly, but she wasn't going to make that obvious to everyone.

I could understand why Fury had trust issues, I certainly did but why he felt he could trust Steve over Nat and I did hurt a little. We'd been following his orders and fulfilling his missions for over ten years each, Steve had only been in the 21st century for a little over two years. But the more I mulled it over the more it made sense, Nat and I were born from secrecy, lies and espionage. Steve was born from freedom, fighting for other people's freedom and a strong sense of what it wrong and right. That will always be a fundamental difference between us.

I sat next to Maria as we all gave Fury the time he needed to digest the information Steve, Nat and I had supplied him with. He held a black and white photo of Pierce in his hand.

"This man declined a Nobel Peace Prize. He was peace wasn't an achievement, it was a responsibility." He sat forward and looked between Nat and me.

"See it's stuff like this, that gives me trust issues."

"We have to stop the launch." Nat said simply.

"I don't think the council's accepting my calls anymore." Fury said as he opened a small briefcase.

"What's that?" Sam questioned.

"Once the helicarriers reach 3,000 feet, they'll triangulate with insight satellites, becoming fully weaponized."

"And like Sitwell said, they'll start locating and executing whoever fits Zola's algorithm as being a threat to HYDRA." I said.

"We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own." Fury said.

"One or two won't cut it, we need to link all three carriers for this to work." Maria stated.

"Because if even one of those ships remains operational, a whole lot of people are gonna die."

"We have to assume that everyone on board those carriers are HYDRA. We have to get past them, insert these server blades and maybe, just maybe we can salvage what's left…"

"We're not salvaging anything." Steve interjected. "We're not just taking down the carriers Nick, we're taking down SHIELD."

"SHIELD had nothing to do with this." Fury argued.

"You gave me this mission, this is how it ends. SHIELD's been compromised, you said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed."

"Why do you think we're meeting in this cave?" Fury questioned. "I noticed."

"How many paid the price before you did?" I felt Fury look between Nat, Maria and me before realising we were actively avoiding eye contact with him.

"Look, I didn't know about Barnes."

"Even if you had would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that to? SHIELD, HYDRA, it all goes."

"He's right." Maria said simply. Fury then looked to Nat who slowly sat back in her chair, getting her closer to Sam and Steve making her position clear. Fury glanced to me and I made my feelings clear without needing to utter a word. In a last stitch attempt, he looked up to Sam.

"Don't look at me. I do what he does, just slower."

Fury sighed before sitting back in his chair, looking round eat of us one last time.

"Well. It looks like you're giving the orders now Captain."

"Leyna." Steve's voice pulled me from the mental slump I had found myself in. I hadn't realised I'd simply been staring at a wall, but my mind had gone to somewhere completely different, almost like I'd disassociated from reality but as soon as I blinked everything was just as urgent as before.

"You okay?" Steve asked. "We never really spoke about what happened at Camp David."

I shrugged my shoulders, brushing it off.

"I'm fine. What's up?"

"I need a ride."

"You know," I said through gritted teeth as I finally managed to pick the lock of the security door into the Smithsonian. "Lock picking…not my forte." Steve smiled as the door swung open and we stepped inside.

"Remind me why we're breaking into the Captain America exhibit." I asked as we made our way through the halls. The museum was yet to open but we still ran the risk of being spotted by one of the many security guards the roamed the halls.

"My uniform." Steve said as we reached the particular display he was looking for. Steve's original uniform was at the front, the traditional garish red white and blue stars and stripes from the war. His howling commando's behind him and one caught my eye.

"He's so different now." Steve said quietly, almost like he'd heard my thought process.

"Seventy years is a long time." I almost whispered. The man on the wall was miles away from the soldier that I knew.

"Did you know?" Steve asked suddenly.

"What?" I replied, noticing his clenched fist.

"Did you know about Bucky?"

"No. Steve. I knew the solider, the assassin who trained me, who was ordered to beat me until I no longer feared pain or was smart enough to avoid it. I had no idea that person had ever been anyone else. When his mask fell off in the street, that was the first time I'd seen his bare face."

"Why should I believe you?" I chewed on my lip before shrugging.

"You shouldn't…but can you afford not to? And I'll make you a deal, if we both live through this. I'll be completely transparent with you."

"Completely?" Steve questioned.

"Maybe not completely. But I'll tell you everything I know. You say there's someone else in the soldier's head – he can't be any worse than the man we dealt with yesterday." Steve smiled slightly.

"He would have liked you. Back…before serum's and wars."

"No one likes me." I crossed my arms over my chest as Steve removed the uniform from the mannequin.

"I don't know. I'm starting to."


	23. Chapter 23

Triskellion, SHIELD HQ, Washington D.C. 2014.

I zipped up my suit, pulling the tight sleeves down at the wrists and tucked my new, shorter hair behind my ears. It was already starting to grow back, one of the many side effects of serum experimentation, hair that grew ridiculously fast. I couldn't say I was disappointed, short hair was much more Natasha's thing than mine. Suddenly, Maria appeared behind me with two guns in hand, I took them from her and strapped one to my thigh and the other to my waist. It was then that my eyes caught the SHIELD logo on the shoulder of my suit. I dug my nails under the patch and ripped it off, tossing it to the floor.

"It was never SHIELD." Maria said quietly.

"Just HYDRA's front man." I agreed. "The whole time and no one noticed, no one even thought to dream it would happen and it did."

"And now we have just over two hours to infiltrate the most secure building in the country, most of the occupants are now enemies and you are recovering from a stab wound." I smiled.

"You know what that reminds me of?"

"Lebanon? '05 was it?" Maria asked, her smile showing how she fondly recalled the memory.

"God, has it nearly been ten years already?"

"It has – my knee still hurts whenever it's going to rain."

"Maybe – but I got him good for you." I smirked to her as she dropped her hands onto her hips, the signature Maria Hill stance.

"Yes, you did." Maria smiled.

"Remind me why we're hiding in a tiny cupboard." Sam questioned.

"We're not." Steve answered.

"Elena is adjusting the frequency of the coms that everyone in that room is wearing." Maria stated as I made final adjustments.

"Weapons at the ready, there should be a weedy tech coming our way any second now." Within moments the door had opened and the tech in question had surrendered, allowing us into the main communications hub that controlled all the staff announcements throughout the building. I removed my gun from its holster and helped Maria as we cable tied the techs to their chairs.

"I'm not part of HYDRA." One of them stuttered as I tightened the restraint.

"Then I'll let you out as soon as I'm done killing everyone who is." I replied simply, pressing a cloth into their mouths and taping it over the top.

 _Attention all SHIELD agents, this is Steve Rogers._ Maria, Sam and I turned as Steve spoke in to the tannoy. With his shield on his back and his original costume, he looked every bit the American patriot.

 _You've heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it's time you know the truth… SHIELD is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The STRIKE and Insight Crew are HYDRA as well. I don't know how many more, but I know they're in the building. They could be standing right next to you and they almost have what they want. Absolute control. They shot Nick Fury and it won't end there. If you launch those helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone who stands in their way._

 _Unless we stop them._

 _I know I'm asking a lot. The price of freedom is high. It always has been. But it's a price I'm willing to pay and if I'm the only one then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not._

Sam stepped up behind Steve and patted him on the shoulder.

"Did you write that down first or was it off the top of your head?" I couldn't help but smirk as Maria handed me a small ear piece, so we could all hear each other once we separated.

"You've got a chip each, yes?" I removed my chip from my pocket and watched as Sam and Steve did the same.

"Good, so remember. It has to be all three – this will all be for nothing if we don't get Insight's three targeting chips replaced with our own."

The three of us nodded and left the room, heading straight for the helicarriers that were now rising out of their underwater bays faster than expected.

"Leyna. You take IN 03, Sam 02. I'll stay here on 01." Steve instructed, Sam and I nodded as Sam extended his wings and took flight and I removed the chocks from a jet and took off in that. I circled the elevating helicarrier as covertly as I could – the area I needed to lock in my chip was under the belly of this ship making it the hardest to get to. I knew the Insight crew would have orders to shoot us on sight so whilst I waited for my opportunity to arise, I strapped myself into the ejector seat – I had no plans to get shot out of the sky, but these last few weeks had taught me to try and not take as many life and death chances as I normally did.

Just as I managed to clip the last buckle into place, I felt and heard the familiar sounds of metal on metal as the Insight Crew from 03 Charlie opened fire on my jet. I quickly took the controls and swerved out of the way, quickly scanning the second ship for signs of Sam. I dropped my altitude slightly and managed to secure a blind spot where the shooters couldn't see me.

"Scorpion, status?" I heard Maria's voice over the coms, timed perfectly with another round of bullets being sent my way, I judged that the shooters were far enough away from the central hub holding the chips, and sent a few rounds back to them.

"Engaging and being engaged."

"There's another jet on your tail." Sam interjected, and I quickly pulled up on the controls to make my aircraft climb, as I rolled to one side I spotted a STRIKE member pursuing me. I knew for a fact STRIKE weren't trained in air to air combat, there was another department for that, so I used my own skills against him. I pulled on the controller again and climbed higher into the sky, the angle getting steeper and steeper, I knew that Stark's tech on the engines prevented them from stalling at certain angles, but I was relying on my pursuer to not know that and true to my hopes, he stopped following me – instead dropping altitude.

As I reached the apex of the climb, I sharply pulled back and the jet arched over on itself and my missiles were pointed straight down at the jet below me, he looked up at the last second but didn't give himself enough time to get away as his jet exploded mid-air, debris falling into the water surrounding the Triskellion.

"Status?" Maria asked again. "You've got eight minutes guys."

"Working on it." I heard Steve reply.

"I'm clear. Sam, where are you?"

"Had to take a detour!" 

I scanned the skies looking for Sam and spotted him being pursued by another jet.

"Scorpion if you're clear, get your chip in." Maria ordered.

"Alpha lock." I heard Steve say, and I sighed before heading over to the nearest carrier, as I approached I was once again shot at by the ground crew on the strip.

"Bravo lock." I heard Sam confirm.

"Scorpion, waiting on Charlie lock now. Five minutes."

"Oh, screw this." I muttered to myself, dropping the nose of the jet and throwing it down into the surface of the final helicarrier. As the jet skidded along the tarmac, I unclipped the ejector seat and removed my gun from its holster. I sat back and closed my eyes as the jet came to a halt and as expected, I heard a set of footsteps climb up onto the wing. The compressed hood opened and as I felt the barrel of the rifle nudge my shoulder, I grabbed hold of it and shoved it back into the chin of the man holding it. His head snapped back, and I yanked him towards me putting a bullet through one eye. I used him as a human shield as I climbed out of the jet with other grounds crew shooting at me. As soon as I was close enough I threw the dead crew member to one side and ended the other three, I quickly concealed myself as I heard the sound of approaching boots. As I peered round the edge of the cargo I saw the ten men approaching me, I slipped out the magazine of my gun and brought my wrist to my mouth.

"I could use a second pair of hands out here."

"Hey Sam, gonna need a ride." I heard Steve call out whilst I took a few steps back as the crew got parallel with the cargo I was hiding myself behind. As I rounded a corner my senses peaked seconds too late and a fist made contact with the space between my shoulder blades just as I'd registered there was someone behind me. I didn't need to turn around to realise it was the soldier. I quickly dropped and rolled out of his reach as another punch dented the metal cargo under the nets. I tried to hide myself again whilst my thoughts steadied, it was different now. Before I wouldn't have hesitated to end him when the opportunity arose but now, he wasn't just the phantom that was the soldier, he was Steve's friend, and Steve had said that we were friends so did that make this guy my friend by default? I snapped back to attention with seconds to spare as a grenade rolled towards my feet, I picked it up and threw it to the air, watching as it exploded and cursed realising I had given away my position.

"Leyna, where are you?" Steve demanded.

"Um, on the deck. In the cargo, the solider is here."

"Is he…"

"Trying to kill me?" I asked rhetorically as he rounded a corner with a blade in hand, he managed to catch my ribs, but my sharp elbows broke his nose and I dislocated his wrist making him drop the blade.

"Without a doubt."

"We're coming." I was about to reply when a harsh grip suddenly took handfuls of my hair and ripped my head back, I couldn't help but yell out in pain before he threw my head forward into the ground beneath our feet.

It was the sound of Sam yelling in my ear that made me wake up. I quickly turned my head to one side as I felt the blood gurgling in the back of my throat, spitting it out onto the tarmac.

"Where is everyone?" I asked hoarsely.

"Sam's grounded." I heard Steve say. "Have you still got the chip?" I sat up and amidst a spinning head, frantically patted the pocket on the leg of my suit, relived when I felt the small chip.

"Yeah I got it."

"Good, get down to the belly of the ship."

"What about…"

"Just get the chip in, I'll deal with him."

I nodded and got to my feet, the ground was scattered with the crew members, I took one of their rifles and headed into the ship leading down to where the chips were located. I didn't hesitate in shooting anyone in my way, whether they held a weapon to me or not. As far as I was concerned, everyone on the ship was HYDRA and those who weren't should have been smarter about the loyalties they chose.

As I reached the belly of the ship, I could hear the sound of fighting and I spotted Steve and the solider on the glass bottom of the ship. Steve had managed to pin the solider down and was strangling him.

"Cabinet open." Steve strained as the soldier passed out and he got up, I tore myself away and ran for the cabinet, fumbling in my pocket for the chip as I listened to Maria's countdown. Steve was hoisting himself up onto the gangway as I finally had the chip in my clenched fist. Just as I heard the beep of it slotting into place, a shot ran out and a sharp pain shot up my thigh. My leg instinctively gave way as blood pooled through my fingers, holding pressure on the bullet wound. Steve's stranglehold on the soldier clearly hadn't been effective enough and he had quickly regained consciousness.

"Chip in." I stated through gritted teeth as Steve reached my side and began packing the wound.

"Good. Get out." Maria instructed. I looked at Steve who was watching the solider below us. 

"I'm not leaving you behind." I said, Steve smirked.

"It's like you know what I'm thinking." He tugged my arm over his shoulder and hoisted me to my feet, getting out of the solders line of sight.

"You're very transparent, Steve." I muttered, closing my eyes as light headedness tried to fight its way in.

"Maybe not as much as you'd think." He said as I heard a click. As I looked down at my chest and saw the strap of a parachute.

"Steve…" I began but he'd already pushed me through a hole in the glass belly of the ship. I watched the ship move to above me, surrounded by sky and smoke and flames. Despite pulling the handle for the parachute, contact with the water was painful and it knocked the air straight out of me. I fought every instinct to gasp in lungs of water as I unclipped the parachute and kicked to the surface.

Scraping my hair out of my eyes and gulping in lungs of air I winced at a sudden sharp pain in my shoulder and found that I couldn't swim with it. I got my bearings and kicked towards the shore, pulling myself up the sand bank and pushing myself onto my back – chest heaving as I tried to slow my breathing. Above my head I saw as the guns of the helicarriers turned on themselves and began to shoot one another out of the sky. I lifted my hand to my earpiece.

"I'm out. What's Steve doing?"

"I don't know. I can't reach him but he's still up there." I watched as the helicarrier Steve and I had been on tilted to one side and began to lose altitude.

"Maria. The last carrier is going to hit the Triskellion." I forced myself to my feet, scanning the surface of the water in the hope that Steve had gotten out soon after me and was swimming to shore. It was then that another voice added itself to the conversation.

"Have we got a location on Rogers?" Natasha questioned.

"He's still in the carrier with the soldier! I got hit, he pushed me out, but he won't leave. He's being an idiot!" I exclaimed, it was a knew feeling for me, but I felt strained at the idea of Steve dying if for nothing else than the image it would send. The man who just blew his whistle on the biggest governmental coverup in History, dying whilst trying to take them down.

The chopper carrying Nat, Sam and Fury had landed out of the way of the wreckage. The helicarrier had collapsed into the Triskellion, destroying it entirely. But we'd known we'd saved thousands of people and that felt like something of a tiny win.

I searched the shoreline for Steve. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder and even more so the occasional trickle of blood that escaped the poorly packed wound on my leg. The sun was beginning to set when Nat radioed through again, demanding I give her my location.

"I'm not done yet…" I said as I waded around a protruding hedgerow that had invaded into the water and back onto the bank. It was then that I finally spotted the red, white and blue of Steve's suit. He was unconscious, god knows how he got there.

"Nat. I found him." I leant over his nose and mouth and felt the faintest of breezes and he breathed.

"He's alive, just."

"I'll get an ambulance to you both." I nodded as I sat back on my heels, but my attention quickly went back on high alert when I heard a twig snap from the undergrowth. I didn't have any weapons on me but that didn't stop me.

"Whose there?!" I demanded, eyes squinting as the dying light made it harder to see. Eventually, I approached the trees, slowly slipping in between branches and bushes, then straight ahead of me was the soldier. He stood far enough way that I didn't feel immediate panic, I knew he'd sustained injuries too, but he didn't make a move to hurt me, or get past me and hurt Steve. Instead he just stared, as if waiting for me to say something. It was only when the sound of ambulance sirens approached that he turned and ran, without looking back and most likely without knowing where he was going. I had no inclination to go after him but instead met the paramedics and guided them back to Steve, finally letting myself relax as one pair began to treat his injuries and another pair examined my own.

"A dislocated shoulder, and a GSD that apparently was two millimetres from my femoral artery." I smiled to Nat as we sat in the hospital room together. A closed of corner, away from prying eyes.

"Nice." She nodded as a silence fell between us.

"What's it been like out there?" I asked. The hospital had demanded I stayed under their eye for at least a night and that was all it had taken for the fall of SHIELD to become world-wide headlines. There were no more secrets, everything was out in the open now, we couldn't live in the shadows anymore.

"Well, I leaked everything. Most of it is encrypted so it's not like the whole world is going to know everything about us. But it's not just our information out there now, it's everything SHIELD…HYDRA had on everyone." I exhaled a deep breath and adjusted my shoulder, it still being swollen from having to be re-set.

"Ok. So, it's damage control now?" Natasha nodded.

"The world still believes Fury is dead and Steve is still not going anywhere any time soon. We've been summoned. To capitol hill. The senate subcommittee want to 'meet' us."

"Why do I have the feeling 'meet' actually only means publicly eviscerate?"

"Because it does. SHIELD has been called into question and by association so have we, as individuals, and as part of the Avengers."

"Have they contacted anyone else?" I questioned.

"My 'invitation' said I was to organise getting everyone else together. But Clint is with family, Thor is off world, Tony isn't answering his phone and I don't think it's a good idea to put Bruce in front of the senate and make him mad."

"Yeah, probably for the best. Just us then. When it this meeting?"

"Tomorrow morning. So, we need to be on a plane this afternoon."

"Well let's go then."


End file.
